


Why I Went to the Woods

by JavisTG



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay, growing back together, life in the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JavisTG/pseuds/JavisTG
Summary: “We could do it, you know? Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods.”Canon divergent, post Mockingjay. Prim’s dead, Gale’s in D2, and Peeta’s in the Capitol. What happens when Katniss decides to leave D12 and her sorrow behind and head out into the woods?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Everlark Fic Exchange on Tumblr. Springtime Edition 2017.
> 
> Prompt 51: Postwar: isolated Katniss did not sit frozen in that quiet tomb of a house, suffocating! She ran madly into the woods. It's years before anyone sees her again. What's become of 12, Gale, Haymitch, mom...of Peeta? [submitted by 567inPanem]
> 
> I want to thank the wonderful xerxia for helping me with this one –believe me, this story is a LOT better because of her– and the always incredible akai-echo for making such a beautiful banner for me.

It’s night when Katniss and Haymitch land on the green of the Victors’ Village. Half of the houses have lights in the windows, including Haymitch’s and hers. Not Peeta’s.

 

Someone has built a fire in Katniss’s kitchen. She sits in the rocker before it, clutching her mother’s letter.

 

“Well, see you tomorrow,” says Haymitch.

 

As the clinking of his bag of liquor bottles fades away, Katniss whispers, “I doubt it.”

 

Katniss pulls an old shawl over her body and watches the flames. She sleeps.

 

She wakes with the sunrise the next morning. Shy winter sunlight floods the room making the walls glow.

 

Katniss gets up from the rocker and, with unsteady steps walks around the house. Nothing’s changed.

 

The formal sitting room, with its opulent armchairs, thick drapes, and marble tabletops is just as unwelcoming as it ever was.

 

She can't believe she's back. Back in this house she never even wanted. Surrounded by all these objects her mother bought with her blood-stained earnings.

 

Her chest tightens at the thought of her mother. Her old anger bubbling up as she remembers that Mrs. Everdeen is starting a new life in District 4.

 

 _She should be the one living here_ , Katniss thinks, _surrounded by fancy end tables and antique frames_. And still, she isn't. As far as Katniss knows, her mother has no intention of setting foot inside this house ever again.

 

A wave of sadness, cold and dark, grips her. She wraps her arms around her body and closes her eyes. It’s a weak attempt to keep the loneliness at bay, and it’s useless. All she feels is abandoned, bereft.

 

She takes a deep breath. The faint scent of a rose fills her lungs, its cloying perfume sticks to her throat, choking her.

 

Terrified, Katniss opens her eyes. Her whole body trembles as she looks around, trying to find the source of the smell. But the culprit is nowhere in sight.

 

She holds her breath, desperate to keep the evil from seeping into her. But it’s too late, the seed of fear has been planted in her mind, and her despair is quickly making it grow. Her chest begins to burn, and she crumbles to the ground, defeated, trapped under an avalanche of memories from a happier life.

 

The sound of her sister's laughter. The warmth of her mother's embrace. Buttercup’s indignant wails when he was locked outside the house during the night. The mouthwatering smell of freshly baked bread that seemed to fill every room whenever Peeta came by.

 

They all rush back, pressing in on her, suffocating her with the sorrow of knowing those precious moments are never coming back.

 

Katniss cries. Her gut-wrenching sobs bounce against the walls. She can feel them closing in on her, pressing their Capitol-made bricks against her frail body, magnifying the sound of her grief as they echo back her laments. 

 

Somewhere, deep in her gut, her instinct for survival kicks in. Blinded by the tears in her eyes, Katniss stands up and stumbles along the long corridor which leads to the back of the house.

 

Swinging the door open, she steps onto the back porch and the biting winter breeze. She takes a few ragged breaths. Cold, fresh air fills her lungs, waking up her senses and numbing her pain away.

 

Looking up, she takes in her surroundings. The unkempt yard, the light dusting of snow covering the dry grass, the trees with dark naked branches that look like skeletons coming out of the frozen ground.

 

Warm tears sting her eyes. She feels small and lonely, as hollow as the empty walnut husks littering the ground.

 

The sound of a twig snapping catches her attention, and she turns to find a small mockingjay perched on top of a tree.

 

The bird looks at her, its black beady eyes holding onto hers for just an instant before turning away. A moment later, it spreads its wings and takes flight.

 

Katniss keeps her eyes on the small black bird as it circles the yard a couple of times before heading out to the woods and the line of green pine trees beyond the fence.

 

Her breath hitches when she notices the golden sunbeams that paint the sky sending sparks of color over the treetops and wrapping the world in a warm glow.

 

Tall firs sway under a gentle breeze, releasing the scent of fresh pine needles into the wind.

 

Closing her eyes, Katniss greedily breathes it all in. The familiar scent of damp wood and fresh moss wraps around her, blanketing her in the comfort only her woods can bring.

 

Suddenly, the longing in her heart turns into a plan. _I could do it_ , she thinks. _Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. There's no one to stop me now_.

 

It takes a moment for the idea to sink in. But once it does, a sense of clarity and relief envelops her. After weeks of sorrow and uncertainty, she needs something to hang onto. And, for the first time in ages, this is a plan that feels right. Like something the old Katniss would do. Something she'd be good at.

 

She doesn't give herself the chance to second guess her plan, immediately turning on her heels and going back into the house. Her feet rush through the empty rooms while she busies her mind with the list of things she needs to take with her.

 

By the time she reaches her bedroom, she's winded and covered in sweat. The months of inactivity have clearly taken their toll on her body, but she refuses to give up.

 

She’s barely crossed the doorway when the sickly-sweet scent of a dying rose tickles her nose once more. Alarmed, she turns to find a vase on top of her dresser.

 

One single rose, shriveled and fragile, but still holding on to the unnatural perfection cultivated in President Snow’s greenhouse, stands among the dried flowers which fill the vase.

 

With newfound determination, Katniss grabs the vase and rushes back to the kitchen where she throws the flowers into the embers. They flare up. A burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it.

 

Katniss’s heart swells, expanding in her chest as she relishes the sense of satisfaction and freedom which floods her as she witnesses President Snow’s last threat going up in flames.

 

With the flowers gone, she goes back upstairs and straight into her bathroom.

 

Trembling fingers fight with the buttons and fastenings of the clothes she wears. She keeps going, leaving her crumpled garments in a pile on the floor and her fire-ravaged body bare to the world.

 

Her sensitive skin pebbles from the cold, and she goes in search of a new outfit.

 

Cotton underwear, worn trousers, and a soft flannel shirt caress her skin, bringing memories of long lost afternoons spent exploring the woods with Gale by her side.

 

Her throat constricts at the thought of Gale. Her partner. Her friend. The boy who always had her back. The soldier who ignored her pleas and arguments, and brought District 2 to its knees. The man who can't look her in the eye because he knows that, even if he didn't send the bombs himself, he’s still responsible for her sister's death.

 

 _Gale’s gone_ , she reminds herself with a sigh, _I need to keep on moving_.

 

Silent feet carry her through the house as she inspects every room, opening drawers and doors as she looks for things she might need.

 

With shaky fingers, she opens the door to Prim's room.

 

Flowered wallpaper and pale blue curtains stare back at her, reminding her of the happy girl who decorated the space. Overwhelmed, Katniss freezes on the threshold, trying to fight back the waterfall of tears which threatens to swallow her in its depths.

 

From the bedside table, a small watercolor of Prim holding Buttercup catches her eye. She doesn't remember ever seeing it before but, even from a distance, she recognizes Peeta's hand behind each graceful brushstroke.

 

Silently, she crosses the room and grabs the simple wooden frame. Loving fingers trace the outline of Prim's features over the glass while her eyes absorb every line and swirl. He's captured Prim just as Katniss remembers her, happy and radiant, full of life, of possibility.

 

Fresh tears run down Katniss’s cheeks as she thinks of Peeta finding the time to paint Prim's portrait before the Quarter Quell. He had been so focused on their training, so determined to save her life, that she had almost forgotten how much he liked to paint. How much he cared about the beauty of the world around him.

 

Suddenly, her pain and sorrow turn to a blinding rage that warms her veins and reminds her of everything she's lost. Her father, her sister, her childhood home, all the friends she’s ever known…

 

Her fingers tighten their grip on the thin frame, turning her knuckles white as she wonders if it was worth it to fight against the odds, to survive starvation, two arenas, and a war when every single thing she’s ever cared about has been tainted or destroyed.

 

“Why did I even bother?” she yells into the empty room.

 

The portrait she holds in her hands is all the answer she needs. For Prim. Because her sister filled everything she touched with light and joy and she deserved a chance to live in a better world. For Peeta. Who, for all she knows, is still trying to claw his way out of a dark pit of confusion by holding on to the few precious memories he's salvaged from the wreckage of his fractured mind.

 

A stab of longing pierces her heart. And, as the last traces of her anger seep out of her leaving her drained, she thinks that, just like her, Peeta’s lost everything he once held dear. His entire family erased from the face of the earth just a few minutes after her rebellious arrow pierced the sky.

 

Against her better judgment, she looks at the painting in her hands and asks, “Where are you, Peeta?”

 

She doesn't want to care, she can't afford to worry about him when she's barely surviving herself. But the same stubborn determination which guided his hand and stopped her from killing herself tugs at her; pulling at her heart through some invisible string she can't seem to break. Because, even though she remembers calling him an ally, she knows he's much more than that.

 

Peeta is her friend, her light in the dark. The one person who's risked everything he is to keep her alive.

 

But he’s also the man who holds the key to the most vulnerable part of her soul. In his arms, she’s found comfort, tenderness, and an overwhelming need that thrills and terrifies her like nothing else ever has.

 

He's her saddest memory and her brightest moment under the sun.

 

He's loyalty, passion, and hope all rolled into one. And now that he's gone, she feels as lost as a ship stranded under a black starless sky.

 

In her dark exile, she tries to keep him close to her heart, to find his voice in her thoughts, to remember the way he inspired her, guided her, kept her safe before the hijacking took him away.

 

But she's weary and tired, and she doesn't have the energy to pretend anymore. So, it's there, standing in her sister's empty room, that Katniss accepts the fact that no part of the life she once knew will ever come back.

 

The Seam is gone. Her family is either dead or absent. And Peeta… Well, wherever Peeta is, she doesn't expect he’ll ever want to come back to this place. Not after everything he's been through.

 

A part of her thinks that, maybe, if she hadn't allowed her stubbornness and fear to blind her, Peeta would still be by her side. But she can't change the past, and she can't erase the pain she's caused him.

 

 _It's probably best for everyone to simply move on_ , she decides.

 

The sound of the front door startles her. Clutching Prim's portrait tightly against her chest, she leaves the room and rushes to the landing to see who her visitor is.

 

Her eyes widen as Greasy Sae comes into view. “Sae? What are you doing here?”

 

Sae’s gray eyes light up at the sight of Katniss perched on top of the stairs. A kind smile paints her lips. “I’ve come to make you breakfast,” she states like it's the most logical thing in the world.

 

Katniss scowls. “Breakfast?” Noticing Sae's empty hands, she adds, “But, there’s no food in the house.”

 

Greasy Sae nods and begins walking to the kitchen. “I came by yesterday to restock your pantry. You have lots of canned goods now. I also left a few things in your icebox.”

 

Intrigued, Katniss follows.

 

She reaches the kitchen and finds Sae pulling ingredients and cooking utensils from the fully stocked cupboards and placing them on the counter and the stove in front of her.

 

“We could have some bacon and eggs,” Sae offers.

 

Katniss shrugs. She's not particularly hungry, but she knows she needs to put on some weight and recover her strength if she wants her plan to work. Without another word, she pulls out a chair and sits at the kitchen table while Greasy Sae works.

 

Breakfast is a quiet affair.

 

Leaving Prim's portrait on her lap, Katniss forces herself to eat the food in front of her. Each bite bringing her one step closer to the woods’ sweet embrace.

 

After the food’s gone and the dishes have been cleared away, Sae says, “I’ll come back later to make you dinner."

 

Katniss stands up, clutching the frame in her hand. “Don't. I won't be here.”

 

Sae's eyes narrow as she studies the slight girl in front of her and tries to make sense of her words. After a moment, she nods. “Don't forget to take your bow, child. It wouldn't do to be unprotected out there.”

 

“I don't have a bow,” Katniss grumbles.

 

Sae chuckles and turns to leave. She's almost out the door when she calls back, “Check down the hall!”

 

Intrigued by Greasy Sae’s words, Katniss heads for the study. There’s a box on the desk, her father’s bows and a quiver of arrows lie next to it.

 

Cautiously, she walks into the room. The memory of President Snow drinking tea and talking about death haunts her, but she grits her teeth and pushes forward.

 

The contents of the box bring fresh tears to her eyes. Each item is a memory of the different bits and pieces that make her life. The hunting jacket her father wore with pride. The wedding picture of a young couple who loved each other without reservations. The plant book that helped her survive.

 

Two shiny objects, nestled in the bottom of the box, catch her eye; Peeta’s locket and Haymitch’s spile.

 

She has no love for either object, but she doesn't want to waste a perfectly good spile, and she can't bring herself to throw away Peeta's present, so she pockets them and carries everything else out of the room.

 

A couple of hours later, she's packed everything she can think of into a folding cart. She has canned food, some cooking utensils, clothes, a few tools, a comforter and some blankets, a waterproof tablecloth, a first aid kit, and an air mattress with a pump.

 

Her family’s plant book and the frames with Prim’s portrait and her parent’s wedding photo are the last items to go into the cart.

 

It’s too cold outside for her father’s hunting jacket, so she stuffs it into her hunting bag.

 

Lastly, she slips into the protective gear Cinna designed for her. She’s almost finished lacing up the water-resistant boots when one last thought pops into her mind. _The money_.

 

Without undressing, she walks up the stairs and goes back into her mother’s room. There, inside the closet, behind her mother’s hanging clothes, she finds a small safe set into the wall. Her fingers dance over the keypad, punching the digits for her birth date.

 

There’s a short beep, followed by the sound of moving cogs and the door pops open, revealing a large envelope stuffed full of banknotes. She reaches for it, clutching it in a tight fist. These are all her savings, all the money she accumulated in her year as a victor.

 

With Effie’s help, she had emptied her bank account before the Quarter Quell and had given the money to her mother. She still remembers her sad blue eyes as she took the envelope from her, nodding while Katniss gave her instructions. “This is for you and Prim,” she’d said, “keep it in the safe. If anything happens, take it with you. It won’t last forever, but it’ll help.”

 

In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim had left the house in a hurry leaving the money behind. Worried about other things, Katniss had forgotten all about the fat envelope that was hidden behind the thick metal door. Until now.

 

She reaches the front door once more and shoves the money into the cart’s side pocket. Next, she uses a length of rope to bind the bows and quiver to the cart and places her hunting bag on top of it.

 

She takes one last look around. There’s nothing left for her there; nothing but dust, and ghosts, and pain. She needs to get going.

 

Katniss Everdeen stands tall as she opens the door and steps out into the cold March air with the shopping cart trailing behind. She’s lost everything she ever cared about. She has nothing left. Maybe now, she'll finally be free.

 

* * *

 

Katniss reaches the line of trees that surround Victors’ Village and keeps walking in a straight line, following the edge of the woods. It’s slow going. She’s weak and the shopping cart is heavy, but she’s in no hurry. So, she pushes the cart ahead of her, leaning her weight on it and using it for support as she makes her escape.

 

She's almost reached the place where the tear in the fence used to be when she sees him.

 

Thom Whitaker is sitting on a tree stump. He holds a small carving knife on one hand and a small piece of wood in the other. He’s looking at her, eyes wide and bright. It's like he’s seen a ghost, an apparition, maybe.

 

Katniss stands still. She doesn’t know Thom that well, he was in Gale’s crew and she remembers seeing him in District 13, but she’s never really talked to him. She wonders what he’s doing here, back in the barren wasteland they used to call home.

 

Thom’s eyes land on her shopping cart. Suddenly, he breaks the silence. “Headed for the lake?”

 

Katniss narrows her eyes. She’s about to ask him how he knows about the lake when she remembers Gale took the refugees there during the bombing. Her chest tightens as she thinks that her haven may not be as safe and private anymore. Every single survivor in District 12 knows about it now.

 

 _It doesn’t matter_ , she thinks, _it’s not like I have any other options anyway_.

 

Thom is still waiting for an answer, so she nods.

 

He smiles. It’s friendly and kind, and it puts her at ease. A moment later, Thom stands up. Carefully, he folds the knife and puts it in his pocket. His hand wraps around the piece of wood he was working on.

 

“I come by here every day,” he explains, “I like the way the trees smell, and it’s quieter than the Village.” Turning to the woods, he adds, “There's a hollow log behind that tree line. You can leave a note there for me if you ever need me to get you anything.”

 

Katniss’s eyes widen at Thom’s unexpected offer. She hasn’t really planned that far ahead, and she doesn’t want to rely on others. But he looks like he genuinely wants to help her so, she nods. Her voice comes out ragged and rough. “Thanks.” 

 

Thom nods back, the warm smile still perched on his lips.

 

Katniss begins moving again. She turns the cart towards a narrow path that’s partially hidden by the trees and resumes her pushing.

 

“Katniss,” Thom says as she passes him by.

 

“Thom,” she answers as she leaves.

 

The rest of her trip is slow and uneventful. Her weakened state forces her to take frequent breaks, but she doesn’t mind. Every step she takes further into the forest makes her feel better. So, she stops, takes sips of tea from her thermos, and munches on the granola bars she’s packed into her hunting bag.

 

It’s almost dusk when she reaches her father’s lake. The sight of the small cement building, outlined by a pale blue sky streaked with vibrant purples and bright pinks, brings tears to her eyes.

 

She’s said goodbye to this place so many times, and yet, here she is once more. Bruised and battered, broken and burned, but alive, and desperately in need of a home.

 

* * *

 

She spends her first night sleeping on the floor with Cinna’s clothes as her only cushion and protection from the cold. When she wakes, her whole body hurts. But, just like the day before, she ignores the pain and gets to work.

 

Using the pile of firewood and the poker Gale left behind, she builds a fire. Then, she uses her stick broom to clean around a little and covers the windows with the waterproof tablecloth. She sets up the inflatable mattress, covers it with the thick comforter she brought along, and fashions a pillow by bundling some sheets and stuffing them into a pillowcase.

 

When she's done, she slumps on the mattress and watches the fire dancing in the hearth.

 

Not much happens on her first few days in the cabin. Katniss is exhausted. The world around her is covered in snow.

 

She sleeps. She keeps the fire going. She eats the canned food she's brought along.

 

Bundled in Cinna’s clothes, she leaves the cabin a few times each day. She uses a small pail to carry drinking water from the pump and visits the communal outhouse which stands a few yards away from the building where she sleeps.

 

The pain in her muscles recedes. Her strength gradually comes back.

 

One morning, Katniss decides to start exploring the woods once more. She carries a bow everywhere she goes, but she doesn't use it just yet. Instead, she sets up snares and traps for the game she knows will eventually come back.

 

In time, she notices the first signs of spring. Like the dark slush turning into soft grass, or the flap of new wings up in the sky.

 

She's been living in the cabin for a couple of weeks when her food supplies begin to run low. Spring is definitely in the air, but it's still too early to hunt or gather much.

 

After spending a couple of days berating herself for playing fast and loose with her supplies on those first days when she didn't ration what she ate, Katniss comes to terms with the fact that she’s going to have to make some adjustments to her plan.

 

She's reluctant to involve Thom. Even if his offer was sincere, he's practically a stranger, and she doesn't know if he can be trusted to keep the world away. But she doesn’t have any other options. And the fact that no one has come around looking for her tells her that he's kept her secret so far. So, she decides to reach out to him.

 

Katniss writes a note and a list of things she needs and stuffs it inside a clean empty can. After adding some money to the can, she walks back to the edge of town and drops her message on the spot Thom indicated.

 

She waits a couple of days before going back to the hollow log. She doesn’t really know what to expect, but she drags her empty shopping cart along with her in the hope that Thom’s kept to his word.

 

As soon as she reaches the line of trees, she knows that he has. The package he’s left for her is too big to fit into the tree’s cavity. Even from a distance, she can see it peeking out from under the branches he’s used to camouflage it.

 

Relieved, Katniss smiles. Maybe she’ll be able to do this after all.

 

With the parcel safely stored inside her cart, Katniss goes back to the lake.

 

That night, she unpacks the bundle, carefully smoothing out the kraft paper Thom used to wrap it in.

 

As she spreads out the contents of her parcel, she’s surprised to discover Thom’s given her everything she asked for and a few things more. He’s also included a small note.

 

**Katniss,**

**From what I remember, the cabin was bare. I took the liberty of adding a few extra items to your package, I hope you don’t mind.**

**I figured the outdoor lifestyle catalogs could give you some ideas for furnishings. If you find something you like, just let me know, and I’ll get it for you.**

**The radio is for you to stay on top of weather alerts and any other news. It’s powered by a solar battery, and you only need to charge it about once a month. It also works as a two-way radio. If you press the message button and dial 236 you can leave a message for me. That way you won’t need to make the trek back here every time you need something.**

**You don’t need to pay me for my services. But, I‘ll be glad to accept your offer of fresh game when you have some to spare.**

**Please, don’t hesitate to call whenever you need anything. I’ll always be happy to help.**

**Sincerely,**

**Thom.**

 

Katniss reaches for the radio. It isn’t big, but it feels heavy in her hand; like an anchor that keeps her from floating away and straying too far from the civilized world.

 

She considers leaving it inside its box and ignoring it. But a small voice in the back of her mind tells her that’s not a good idea. Thom’s right, weather forecasts are useful, and having easy access to him will also simplify their arrangement. Carefully, she unpacks the small device and leaves it by the window where she knows the battery will start charging as soon as the sun comes up.

 

Next, Katniss flips through the pages of the catalogs Thom’s sent her. A small smile curves her lips at the sight of all the different types of camping gear contained in their glossy pages.

 

 _Maybe contacting Thom wasn’t such a bad idea after all_ , she thinks.

 

* * *

 

Almost overnight, the world comes back to life. Katniss watches in wonder as the woods turn green.

 

Dandelion sprigs sprout everywhere she looks. The sight of their sturdy green stems pierces her heart.

 

Their message of resilience and hope bring Peeta to her mind, reminding her that she managed to survive loss once before. But she can’t think about that for long. Her pain is too fresh. She’s not ready to face the thought of life and rebirth in a world without Prim. Sometimes she wonders if she’ll ever be.

 

She tries not to think about the world on the other side of the old fence too much. And her mind usually flits back to Peeta when she does. She wonders where he is, what he's doing… Does he hate her still?

 

She considers reaching out to him sometimes. Leaving a letter in the empty tree trunk and asking Thom to give it to Haymitch. She's sure her old mentor knows where Peeta is. But the memory of all the pain they endured together stops her, keeping her rooted to the one place where she feels safe.

 

 _I’m doing fine on my own_ , she reasons. Deep inside, she hopes that, wherever Peeta is, he can say the same.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Lana_Holt for all her help and support.

 

Peeta stands in Katniss’s sitting room and looks around. The place looks exactly as he remembers it, formal and stifling. _Abandoned_ , he adds with a frown.  
  
The sound of the front door opening startles him. Turning, he finds his old mentor standing in the entrance hall.  
  
“Where is she?” Peeta asks.  
  
Haymitch shrugs. “She’s gone.”  
  
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Peeta growls, barely keeping his frustration under control. “I thought she wasn't supposed to leave the district.”  
  
“Well… technically, she hasn't.”  
  
Peeta's hands close into tight fists. He's only been back in Twelve for a few hours, and he's not in the mood for Haymitch's games.  
  
_Breathe_ , Peeta reminds himself. “Stop playing about,” he warns.  
  
“Ok, calm down, kid. I don't think all this excitement is gonna do you much good.” Quiet as a mouse, Haymitch walks over to a couch. He sits down and pats the empty space next to him. “Come, sit.”  
  
Peeta shakes his head in annoyance, but complies nonetheless.  
  
“Alright, listen up, kid. The girl and I came back a few weeks ago. As soon as we landed, I dropped her off here. The next day Greasy Sae came by to fix her breakfast. They ate together, and then Katniss packed up all her stuff and left.”  
  
“Left? For where?”  
  
Haymitch raises an eyebrow and turns to the long corridor that leads out into the backyard.  
  
Peeta follows his mentor’s gaze. His heart skips a beat as understanding sinks in. “She's out there,” he whispers.  
  
Haymitch nods.  
  
An all too familiar sense of dread settles in the pit of Peeta's stomach. It sends a cold shiver down his spine. “Are you crazy? How could you let her leave? It's freezing out there!”  
  
“It's not that cold!” Haymitch snaps. “Besides, it's not like she's sleeping out in the open.”  
  
Peeta narrows his eyes. “She’s not?”  
  
“There’s a cabin out there, about an hour’s walk away from here. It’s right on the edge of a lake. The building’s very small, but it has a fireplace. I think it was a campsite before the dark days. I’ve never been there, but Katniss and her crew shot a propo there once. It’s where Hawthorne took the survivors the night the district was bombed.”  
  
Peeta nods. He remembers Delly talking about the place. “And you think she’s there?”  
  
“I know she is.”  
  
“How can you be so sure?”  
  
“Well… Remember Thom Whitaker?”  
  
Peeta thinks for a moment; the name sounds familiar... “He was one of the miners in Gale’s crew, right?”  
  
Haymitch nods. “He’s part of the civic clean-up crew now. Anyway, he was taking a walk along the edge of the woods the morning Sweetheart left. They ran into each other, talked for a bit. She told him she was headed for the lake, and he told her about a hollow log nearby, said she could use it as a drop site if she ever needed anything.”  
  
“Has she used it yet?”  
  
“No. Thom’s been checking it every day and, so far, she hasn’t contacted him. But I’m sure she’ll be reaching out soon; her supplies must be running low.”  
  
“What about Katniss’s sentence, though? Don’t you think she might get in trouble for this? Dr Aurelius has been trying to reach her. He actually sent me here with a message. I'm supposed to tell her that he can’t pretend to be treating her any longer. What’s going to happen once they figure out she’s gone?”  
  
“Well,” Haymitch starts, scratching at the days-old stubble on his cheek. “Like I said before, technically Katniss hasn’t broken the terms of her release. Under the new district distribution, the lake is within District 12’s limits. I’ll just have to call the doctor and explain the situation to him. He's a reasonable man. I'm sure he’ll think of something.”

 

* * *

  
A few days later, there's a knock on Peeta's door. Startled, he rushes to answer.  
  
Thom Whitaker stands on the front porch, Seam gray eyes gleaming under the morning sun.  
  
“Hey, Thom,” Peeta greets, “what brings you by?”  
  
Thom smiles. He looks as happy as a kid in a candy store. “Morning, Peeta. We got a message today!”  
  
Peeta's eyes narrow as he tries to catch up with Thom’s enthusiasm. “A message… From Katniss?”  
  
“Yeah. Here, see for yourself,” Thom says, pressing a can in Peeta's hand.  
  
Peeta takes a deep breath. His fingers tremble slightly as he pulls a small piece of paper from the can. He unfolds it and begins to read.  
  
The message isn't long, just a list of canned goods, a proposal to pay Thom for his services, and an offer to provide him with fresh game whenever it's available. But the loopy handwriting it's written in is undoubtedly Katniss’s, and the mere sight of it is enough to make Peeta's heart race.  
  
“Have you told Haymitch?” Peeta asks, keeping his eyes trained on the small piece of paper.  
  
“I stopped by his place, but he didn't answer the door. He's probably still asleep, and I know better than to try to wake him up,” Thom grumbles.  
  
A memory of his mentor brandishing a knife in his sleep flashes through Peeta’s mind making him wince. “I guess some things never change, huh?”  
  
“Yeah. Anyway,” Thom says with a shake of his head. “I was already here, and I figured you might be interested.”  
  
Peeta nods. His shoulders begin to relax, and he smiles.  
  
He’s spent the last couple of days thinking about paying Thom a visit. He wanted to ask him if he’d heard from Katniss, and to offer his help. But he still hadn’t decided how to broach the subject. He wasn’t expecting Thom to show up on his doorstep and happily invite him back into Katniss’s life.  
  
“You’re right,” Peeta says, “I am. So, what happens now?”  
  
Calmly, Thom lays out his plan, meticulously explaining every detail. He tells Peeta about the two-way radio he's bought, the catalogs he's chosen, and the big metal box he wants to install inside the hollow log to protect the packages he’ll be delivering. “So, what do you think?” he asks when he's finished.  
  
“I think you're a genius! What are going to do for money? I’ll be happy to pay for whatever she needs.”  
  
“There's no need for that,” Thom says, waving off his offer. “She left some money inside the can. There's more than enough to pay for the things she wants.”  
  
As if to prove his point, Thom slips a hand inside his pants’ pocket and produces a roll of banknotes. They look crisp and clean, brand new.  
  
_Her victor’s earnings_ , Peeta thinks, _Mrs. Everdeen must have kept them someplace safe during the war_. His chest constricts as he remembers asking his father to do the same.  
  
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Peeta adds, “Looks like you have everything figured out.”  
  
“Well, I’ve had a few weeks to come up with ideas,” Thom says, modestly shrugging off Peeta's compliments. “I'm going over to the train station now. They’ve turned one of the warehouses into a general store and I’m pretty sure I can get most of the things on her list there. I’m hoping to make the first drop tomorrow morning. Would you like to add anything to the package?”  
  
Peeta considers Thom's words for a moment. He could write a note, tell Katniss he's back, ask if they can meet.  
  
His palms begin to sweat at the prospect of seeing Katniss again. He wonders if she even wants to see him. Their last encounter wasn't exactly amicable. Their last minutes together were nothing more than a string of moments in which they were forced into yet another face-off.  
  
His mind races from the victors’ meeting to that last instant when he admitted that he simply couldn't let go; that he preferred to see her locked and bound than laying lifeless on the cold marble tiles of the President’s Mansion floors.  
  
But, as much as he wants to see her, and to clear the air, a part of him feels it wouldn't be right to contact her like this. Deep in his gut, he knows that Katniss left the district because she needed time to figure things out on her own; and he refuses to renew their relationship by forcing himself back into her life.  
  
He's had enough empty promises, and false hopes, to last him a lifetime. His heart longs for something solid, something real, and he doesn’t mind waiting for it because, deep down, he believes that things with Katniss can still be good if they just let them grow naturally, without pressure.  
  
So, even though he wants to be there for her more than anything, Peeta decides that, for now, sticking to the side lines will have to be enough.  
  
“Thanks for the offer, Thom, but I don't think we're ready for that just yet. Katniss went out there for a reason, and I don't think it would be right of me to interfere. Whatever she's doing, she needs a chance to see it through without any pressure from me, or anyone else.”  
  
Thom nods.  
  
“But, even if I don't contact her, I still want to help you in any way that I can. I may not be able to see her, but I need to know that's she's ok, that's she's safe.”  
  
Thom’s gray eyes turn serious as he speaks. “Don’t worry. We’ll all help you keep her that way.”

 

* * *

  
Katniss reaches the cabin with a spring to her step and a whispered tune on her lips. Spring is in full bloom. A happy warmth kisses her cheeks and makes the forest glow.  
As soon as she steps into the small cement building, she feels the temperature drop. Tired and relieved, she shrugs off the backpack she’s been carrying all the way from the drop site where Thom leaves her packages.

  
Leaving the backpack on the cement floor, Katniss stretches her arms over her head. She winces. Her back’s a bit sore. It’s the first time she’s used this system to retrieve her goods and, while it’s a lot faster than pushing the cart around, it’s also more demanding on her body. A part of her marvels at the fact that she’s already strong enough to do this.

  
After drinking some water, and resting for a bit, she opens the backpack and pulls out the heavy parcel stored within. A small smile curves her lips as she looks at the tightly wrapped bundle, running her nimble fingers over the length of twine Thom always uses to hold the paper in place. It’s sturdy, she thinks she can use it to secure her fishing nets to some of the branches that hang over the water’s edge.

  
Carefully, she unwraps the package, smoothing the wrinkles on the coarse paper as she goes. She hasn’t been doing this for very long, but this is her favorite part of every delivery. The moment when the paper falls open, revealing her supplies. The items that make it possible for her to stay here, cocooned and protected by her forest’s gentle embrace.

  
A small envelope, sitting atop the canned goods, catches her eye.

  
Katniss stills, her muscles stiffen as she keeps her eyes on the intruding article. Paper that smooth and white can only come from one place, the Capitol.

  
A wave of terror, chilling and sharp, grips her, causing her whole body to shake. She’s instantly drenched in a cold sweat which seems to break out from her every pore.  
Her heart pounds madly in her chest as her mind gets away with her, conjuring up images of white roses and blood-stained snow.

  
Terrified, Katniss closes her eyes, clenching her fists and forcing herself to take deep, soothing breaths. _President Snow’s gone_ , she reminds herself. _President Paylor’s in charge now_ , she repeats over and over.

  
It takes a while. But, eventually, her heartbeat slows down and she’s able to open her eyes once more.

  
There it is, the envelope, staring back at her; challenging her once more. She considers grabbing it and tossing it into the flames, just like she did with the rose. But a small voice inside her tells her that’s not such a good idea.

  
_You need to know if they’re coming for you_ , she thinks, _you might still have time to escape_.

  
Slowly, Katniss reaches for it. It’s light and thin, but it feels as heavy as a ton of bricks in her hand. Hesitantly, she lifts the flap and pulls at the single sheet of paper that's been carefully folded inside.

  
With trembling fingers, Katniss smooths the paper over her lap, pressing down on the sharp crease along its fold. The feel of the thick Capitol stationary under her fingertips makes her stomach churn.

  
Swallowing past the anxiety pressing down on her chest, she begins to read.

  
**Dear Miss Everdeen:**

**  
I hope this letter finds you well.**

**  
I don't know if you're aware of this, but it’s my duty to inform you that, following the terms of your release, you are required to undergo psychiatric treatment.**

**  
Since we don't have enough specialists, and you have been remanded to District 12, it was agreed that your sessions could be conducted over the telephone.**

**  
After several failed attempts to reach you by phone, I decided to contact your legal guardian. Mr Abernathy wasn't exactly forthcoming but, after some prodding, he reluctantly shared the details of your current situation with me.**

**  
According to him, you've been living in an abandoned campsite at the edge of a lake, and you have everything you need to stay comfortably there for as long as you want.  
Mr. Abernathy also mentioned that you have access to a two-way radio which can be used to reach you.**

**  
I've given your case some serious thought.  And, while I believe that life in the woods might provide an adequate base for your recovery, I also feel that it's my responsibility to monitor your progress.**

**  
With that in mind, I've taken the liberty of including a small signal amplifier along with this letter. The only thing I ask, is that you attach the small device to your radio, and contact my office twice a month.**

**  
My contact information has already been programmed into the device. All you need to do is push the “call” button, and select the option with my name on it.**

**  
We don't need to have lengthy sessions, but it is imperative that you call me. Ascertaining your wellbeing is essential if you wish to remain in District 12.**

**  
I hope to hear from you soon.**

**  
Sincerely,**

**  
Dr M. Aurelius**

  
Katniss’s body goes limp. She drops the letter back onto her lap. Relief, sweet and warm, washes over her. She feels as light as a feather now that the huge weight of dread has been lifted off her shoulders.

  
The notion of people finding out her whereabouts, and showing up unannounced, has been haunting her since she first arrived. But, apparently, she had nothing to worry about. According to this letter, everyone knows exactly where she is and they’ve chosen to leave her alone. Until now.

  
Katniss chews on her lip and considers the doctor’s request.

  
Her mind conjures up an image of him in his white coat, his chin propped up on his fingers, and his eyes closed as he takes a nap on the armchair next to her hospital bed.  
She sighs. She’s never thought about the doctor much. She doesn’t know how he managed to turn those naps he took in her room into an argument in her favor, or how many strings he’s had to pull to keep her in District 12.

  
As much as she hates the idea of the Capitol invading her sanctuary, the rational side of her knows that Dr Aurelius has been good to her; it also tells her that talking to him a couple times a month doesn’t sound like such a high price to pay to retain her inner peace, and her freedom.

  
“Fine,” she mutters under her breath. “I’ll play along.”

 

* * *

  
Peeta stares out into the line of trees surrounding the Victors’ Village and sighs. Somewhere out there, beyond the tall firs and the shallow streams that trickle into the far side of the Meadow, is the place where Katniss lives.  
  
He’s been back for over a month, and he still hasn’t seen her. And now, with spring in full bloom, and summer just a few weeks away, he’s certain that she won’t be coming back anytime soon.  
  
He knows she’s fine. Thom has shown him the contents of every single package he’s delivered. And even though he’s never been to the small cabin by the lake, Peeta imagines it must be looking pretty cozy by now, furnished with a fold-out table and chair, a pallet, and a few other items Katniss has ordered from the catalogues Thom’s given her.  
  
And still, a part of him worries about her every single day. He can’t help it.  
  
Peeta came back to District 12 hoping to see Katniss, to be next to her, to help her heal, and to start anew. If she allowed it.  
  
He had spent his months in the Capitol fretting over her. Greedily holding on to every tiny bit of information he could gather.  
  
Sensing how important Katniss’s welfare was to his peace of mind, Dr Aurelius had kept him informed of her trial and imprisonment. As a part of his treatment, Peeta had even seen some footage of Katniss confined in her room in the training center, her voice raw with sorrow and her body frail as a bird’s as she slowly wasted away into nothingness.  
  
He had cried that day. Sad, lonely tears, heavy with pain and regret, stained his cheeks as he berated himself for failing her; for allowing President Snow and his minions to muddle his mind and turn him into a wild mutt, a hateful creature consumed with rage and fear.  
  
Sometimes, when he’s having a bad day, his treacherous mind still replays the blurry images of parachute bombs dropping over the city circle; bringing back the terror that gripped him that day, immobilizing him, and rendering him useless to do anything but watch from the side lines as the girl he had vowed to protect, and her sister, went up in flames.  
  
He still hasn’t forgiven himself for his lack of action that day, or for failing to recognize Prim among the medics who rushed past him until it was too late.  
  
Sometimes he thinks he never will.  
  
But he still has to try. He needs to hold himself accountable for his actions, and to somehow make things right. Because, even if he was merely trying to survive, everything he did onscreen, and some of the things he did when no one was watching, affected others.  
  
His family, his friends, his entire district ended up paying for his need to stay alive. And, while wishing he could trade places with them isn’t going to make a difference at this point, remembering their deaths keeps him grounded and pushes him forward. Forcing him to try to make their sacrifice count for something.  
  
If he gives up on life, he gives up on them, and that’s something he’s not willing to do. Not yet, at least.  
  
So, even if Katniss has chosen to run away, Peeta remains. This is his district, his home. And, as hard as it is, he needs to see it flourish and grow once more.

 

* * *

  
Months of arduous work go by. The clean-up crews have finally removed all the debris and remains from the town and the Seam.  
  
The balmy days of summer bring a new rush of people into the district.    
  
Peeta smiles as he sees them pouring out of the train station, with their pale faces and wide eyes, their fire and determination. They come from every district in the country, but they’re all there for the same reason; to start over and create something better than what they knew. The notion warms his heart.  
  
By the end of June, a small group of architects, engineers, and town planners are sent over from the new Capitol. Their mission, to transform the ruins of the old mining district into a new town.  
  
A shipment of construction supplies reaches District 12 soon after their arrival. Building crews are assembled and everyone gets to work. What was once a barren field covered in ash and death begins to flourish with activity and life.  
  
Haymitch drinks. Greasy Sae cooks. Thom supervises a couple of construction crews. Peeta bakes.  
  
Time flies.  
  
In early August, Peeta receives a package from Dr Aurelius. He’s surprised to find a couple of booklets form a university in District 1 when he tears it open.  
  
“What are they for?” Peeta asks later that night when he calls the doctor.  
  
Dr Aurelius answers Peeta’s question with one of his own. “Why did you go back to District 12, Peeta?”  
  
Peeta stills. He knows this question; knows the doctor only asks it whenever he wants to introduce a new element into his routine.  
  
The answer is so clear in Peeta's mind that the words flow effortlessly from his lips. “Because I needed to see it with my own eyes, and I wanted to see if I could help. This place is all I really know. It’s my home, and Katniss and Haymitch are the only family I’ve got left. I wanted to be close to them.”  
  
“And how’s that been going so far?”  
  
Peeta lets out a weary sigh. He’s lost count of the number of times they’ve had this conversation, and he’s growing tired of it. But he trusts his therapist so, he humors him once more. “It’s been good. Things are looking a lot better now. The construction crews are breaking ground next week. Greasy Sae and I have a plan to deliver food and baked goods to the temporary campsite where most of the workers live. I’m even thinking about turning the ground floor of my house into a proper bakery.”  
  
“Sounds like you're keeping busy. That’s good. Be careful not to overdo it, though. You know that exhaustion can lead to episodes, and I don’t want you to suffer due to unnecessary stress.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. I was thinking about hiring a couple of newcomers to help me run it.”  
  
“Good. How’s your mentor?”  
  
“He’s doing better. He still drinks a lot, but he’s thinking about getting a flock of geese.” Peeta chuckles, shaking his head at the thought of Haymitch taking care of a bunch of ill-tempered birds. “I don’t know, it might be good for him. It’ll keep him busy.”  
  
Peeta pauses, bracing himself for the next part of their conversation. “I haven't seen Katniss yet.” He's sure the doctor can hear the sadness in his voice but, instead of worrying about it, he asks, “How is she, doctor?”  
  
The doctor’s answer is soft, gentle. “She’s doing fine, Peeta. Summer has been good to her.” There's sympathy in his tone when he adds, “That's all I can tell you.”  
  
Peeta nods, he understands Dr Aurelius isn’t allowed to discuss his patients’ progress. He’s grateful for every tidbit he gets.  
  
“Now, about the booklets,” the doctor says, “I know you’re happy in District 12. You’re keeping busy, and you’re contributing to your community. That's good, Peeta. But the country is changing. New opportunities are popping up everywhere. People are no longer bound to their districts, and I think you might benefit from some of the alternatives that are available out there.”  
  
“Out there… In District 1?”  
  
“Yes. Why not? They have some of the best programs in the country. Listen, I’m not telling you to pack your bags and move across the country right this minute. All I’m asking is that you think about it. Take a look at the course catalogues, they have all sorts of programs, from astronomy to gardening. Some of them are just a few months long. I’d be surprised if you didn’t find something that catches your eye.”  
  
Peeta eyes the booklets warily. Even if things have changed, he doesn't have the best memories of District 1.  “And you think that would be good for me?”  
  
“I do. Peeta, you’re very young. I know it doesn't feel like it sometimes, but your life is just getting started. I know you want to make a life for yourself in 12. But, that doesn’t mean that you have to be there all the time. Why not take an opportunity now, before you open the bakery and are completely established, to learn more about the things you’re interested in? I can almost guarantee that you’ll find information in those booklets which will improve and enrich your life.”  
  
In the silence that follows, Peeta considers the doctor’s words. He still isn't convinced, but he has to admit that his curiosity’s been piqued.  
  
“I know this is a lot to process,” Dr Aurelius adds, “I don’t expect you to do anything right away. Just… think about it.”  
  
“Fine,” Peeta relents, “I’ll look at them. I’m not making any promises, though.”

 

* * *

  
It takes Peeta several days to finally start flipping through the glossy pages of the booklets. But, once he does, he can’t bring himself to put them down.  
  
Each page reveals a new world to his eyes. He’s surprised to find there's something for every taste. The courses range from history to geology, going through anatomy, music, and sculpture as well. Every course he finds holds the promise of a future made better through a craft or skill.  
  
After growing up surrounded by restrictions and austerity, Peeta is suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of options at his disposal. But he keeps going, undeterred, reading every single page, analyzing each and every course as he tries to figure out which are the things that appeal to him the most.  
  
It's a thrilling notion, being able to learn a new skill of his choice. But it isn't easy. While the practical side of him wants to focus on business courses that might help him run the bakery more efficiently, his artist’s heart skips a beat every time he opens the section devoted to the fine arts.  
  
When he shares his conflict with Dr Aurelius, the doctor laughs. “That’s not really a problem, Peeta.”  
  
“Well, I think it is,” Peeta huffs. “How am I supposed to choose what I want to do? I’m interested in many different things.”  
  
“And where does it say that you can only choose one? You can take as many courses as you want. You can also combine specialties if you want to.”  
  
He hardly sleeps that night. Tossing and turning as his mind tries to process what he’s about to do. He’s anxious and excited in equal measure, worried about leaving his district and its people behind. But a part of him knows that Dr Aurelius is right. He’s earned the right to think about himself. Why shouldn't he benefit from what this new world has to offer?  
  
He still wants to be a part of District 12, and to honor his family by following the trade they taught him. But the district’s reconstruction has only just begun. Every project Peeta has in mind can wait. This one can't.  
  
Hours go by as he debates with himself, adding all the pros and cons of this new adventure. He’s almost made up his mind, but whenever he feels like he's ready to reach a decision, the same thought pulls him back.  
  
Katniss.  
  
Even when everything tells him that she's doing fine, and that she has no intention of coming back from the woods anytime soon, he can’t bring himself to leave the district without having some tangible evidence that she’s ok.  
  
Peeta spends the next few days walking around the district, closely following the line of trees that wraps around the forest.  
  
His feet tread slowly while his mind races, unsuccessfully trying to come up with a plan that will give him the information he needs without invading Katniss’s personal space.  
  
As days slowly trickle by, Peeta’s frustration mounts. No solution seems good enough.  
  
He’s about to give up when he finds Thom sitting on the front steps of the house he’s been assigned in Victors’ Village.  
  
A sudden thought flashes in Peeta’s head, sharp and bright as a bolt of lightning. It isn't the best idea in the world, but he knows it’s the best option he’ll find under the current circumstances.  
  
“Hey, Thom!” Peeta calls out.  
  
Thom smiles back. They’re not friends, not really, not yet, but sharing a life in District 12 and dealing with Katniss’s needs has definitely brought them closer.  
  
Along with Haymitch and Sae, Thom has become one of few people Peeta knows he’s going to miss when he leaves the district.  
  
Peeta joins Thom on the front stoop. They talk a little, complaining about the summer heat as they lazily watch people pass them by. After discussing the new developments in the district for a bit, Peeta swallows his anxiety and shyly asks whether he can listen to one of Katniss’s messages.  
  
Thom’s gray eyes narrow as he considers Peeta’s request. Eventually, he simply says, “You want to hear her voice.”  
  
Peeta nods, grateful for Thom´s understanding. “Yeah. I think I need to.”  
  
Thom smiles, empathy softening his features. “Sure. I only have her latest message. It’s not exactly riveting, none of them are,” he adds with a soft chuckle, “but I think it’s exactly what you need.”  
  
Peeta follows Thom into his house. The formal study has been turned into an office for the planning committee. Thom’s two-way radio sits on a small table in the corner of the room.  
  
Thom fiddles with the buttons on the radio. There's a low whirring sound followed by a beep, and suddenly Katniss’s clear voice fills the room.  
  
“Hey, Thom! Thanks for the solar panels. I finally have enough electricity to power my mini fridge!  
  
“So, listen, I was going through some of the catalogs, and I was wondering if you had anything about gardening. I’ve been thinking about setting up a greenhouse, and I’d like to get some supplies and seeds. Do you think you could find me something like that for the next delivery?

 

“I was walking along the stream the other day, and I found a new strawberry patch. Would you like some? I could drop a basket off the next time I go by. Let me know if you’re interested. Bye.”

 

* * *

 

Peeta barely registers his walk home.

 

As soon as he walks in, he slumps against the door and closes his eyes. Relief, warm and sweet, washes over him. His body shakes as tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with the laughter escaping from his parted lips.

 

Katniss’s words ring in his ears, friendly and cheerful. He feels them reaching deep into his soul, soothing him and blocking out every other sound.

 

For the first time since he came back from the Capitol, he knows, without a doubt, that Haymitch and Thom haven’t been lying to him.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, but a part of him always wondered whether this was just an elaborate hoax. But hearing Katniss’s voice has suddenly made this situation real for him. There’s no doubt in his mind now. Katniss is really out there. She’s alive, she’s safe, and the unmistakable hint of joy in her tone tells him that she’s already begun to heal. But she’s not ready to come back, not yet at least. The greenhouse she wants to build is a testament to that.

 

Peeta releases a shaky breath. He’s still anxious about leaving District 12, but he can’t afford to put his life on hold while he waits for Katniss to return. It wouldn’t be fair to her. After everything that’s happened, she’s earned the right to put herself first and to do things at her own pace. She can’t be made responsible for his life or his plans.

 

And it wouldn’t be fair to him either. He has the gnawing feeling that if he lets this opportunity pass, he’ll end up resenting her. And that’s the last thing he wants.

 

He can’t wait for their paths to cross again, his heart stutters whenever he thinks about seeing her once more. But he doesn’t want to have any pressure or recrimination hanging over them when they do. They’ve had enough of that already, and he refuses to go down that road again.

 

Peeta doesn’t know what drove Katniss to the woods on that cold winter morning, but he knows she was right to trust her instincts and to start anew in a different place.

As nervous as he is by the notion of leaving, he knows it’s his turn to do the same.

 

* * *

 

The suitcase is heavy in Peeta’s hand. It swings back and forth, following the motions of his wrist as he walks.

 

Peeta reaches the iron gates of the Victors’ Village. With a heavy sigh, he lowers his suitcase, letting it rest on the pavement by his side.

 

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and tears are threatening to escape his eyes.

 

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Peeta turns around to take one last look at the busy street lined with luxurious houses he’s about to leave behind.

 

Suddenly, the memory of his first visit to the Victors’ Village comes rushing back into his mind. He’s not surprised. He was starting a new life back then, he’s doing the same thing now.

 

A sad smile curves his lips as he thinks that the Peeta who walked through the gates two years before has little to do with the one who’s walking out of them now. That boy had been heartbroken and lonely; the unlikely survivor the world couldn’t wait to forget.

 

The row of empty houses lining the road had mirrored the way he felt. Hollow, unwanted, forlorn. The whole village had seemed bleak under the glare of a relentless summer sun.

 

The man who’s walking away now is much stronger. He’s experienced unimaginable loss and pain. He’s been broken and burnt, and he’s had to fight against himself to be here, standing tall and proud as he waits to embark on a new adventure that will change his life once more.

 

Just like him, the street in front of his eyes has changed. Emptiness and silence have been replaced by life and warmth. The entire village has blossomed with the arrival of families and people who can’t wait to make the district smile again.

 

The sound of a horn makes Peeta turn back toward the gate.

 

“Ready to go?” asks Oliver, the construction worker who offered him a ride to the train station on his electric cart.

 

“Yeah, I was just taking one last look.”

 

Oliver nods. “Got everything you need?”

 

Peeta pats the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. “Yup!” After dropping his suitcase on the back of the cart, he climbs into the passenger seat. “Alright, let’s go!” His voice catches a little, and he clears his throat. This isn’t the first time he leaves the district, but it’s the first time he does it on his own. He’s excited about his new adventure, but he’s also sad about leaving his home.

 

As the cart begins to move, Peeta chances one last glance back into the woods. Somewhere there, among the trees and the streams, Katniss is making a life for herself.

 

The soft tones of her sweet voice bounce around in his mind. The relief he felt while listening to her message a few days back washes over him once more.

 

 _She’s healthy. She’s healing. She’ll be fine_ , Peeta repeats like a mantra. He’s been doing this since he heard the message, stubbornly trying to convince himself that she doesn’t need him right now. Desperate to believe that it’s ok to put himself first for once; that Katniss won’t blame him for wanting to make something of himself before going back to her side.

 

 _It’s only a year. It’ll go by in not time_ , Peeta tells himself, finally pulling his eyes away to focus on the road that lies ahead.

 


	3. Part 3

Katniss sits by the cabin’s entrance, arms wrapped around her legs as she settles to watch the sunset with a steaming cup of tea by her side.

 

Bright pinks and pale oranges streak the clear blue sky as the sun dips in the horizon, seemingly disappearing into the murky waters of her father’s lake.

 

She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of green leaves and damp earth.

 

Summer is almost gone. In a few more weeks, it’ll be too cold to sit out in the open without a blanket or a coat. The coming winter doesn’t worry her, though. She has everything she needs to pull through. 

 

Katniss takes a sip of her tea, humming happily as the warm liquid slides down her throat. Her gray eyes widen in appreciation, enjoying the beautiful show of colors dancing in the sky.

 

Suddenly, her chest tightens with a familiar pull. _Peeta_.

 

Her eyes find the eager evening star that’s already twinkling in the sky. “Where are you?” she asks.

 

Her question hangs in the air, unanswered, once more.

 

She’s been living in the woods for six months, and she still hasn’t heard from him. A part of her is surprised that he hasn’t shown up, trampling along the riverbank, looking for her. But another part of her is relieved.

 

The Peeta Mellark she remembers had a way of defying her expectations and getting under her skin. He somehow wiggled his way into her heart, breaking down her barriers and exposing her to all the feelings she had so carefully avoided throughout the years. He made her vulnerable and weak in a time when they couldn’t afford to be either, and they’ve both paid the price. 

 

But, even though she’s made no effort to contact him, she can’t seem to put him out of her mind. She thinks about him constantly, whenever she shoots a squirrel or when she gathers berries by the stream.

 

When the summer storms pelt the shingles of her small cabin, engulfing her in the same darkness which surrounded them in their cave, her mind flies back to the time they spent together, shyly getting to know each other as an entire country rebelled.

 

She also thinks about him at night. When she wakes up from a nightmare, or when the nights turn cold and the chilly air that floats in through the cracks on the window pane kisses her cheeks.

 

Sometimes she thinks about his arms, and the way they kept her safe and warm; and about his smile, and how it lit up a room.

Other times she thinks about his eyes, and the way he used to look at her, making her feel like the most precious thing in the whole wide world.  And she thinks about his lips, full of magic words and whispered secrets.

 

Her mind spins when she remembers his kisses, tender and soft, igniting a fire she had never even imagined before; a hunger that’s never been fully sated and that sneaks up on her sometimes, reminding her of everything she could have had with him if she had only been brave enough to take it. 

 

There are nights when she calls out his name in the dark, feeling needy and lost. But, even then, she refuses to contact him, stubbornly convinced that wherever he is, is probably better for him than this.

 

Yes, the rational part of her understands why he hasn’t gone out looking for her. And, despite how much she misses him, she doesn’t fault him for wanting to protect himself. How can she? Isn’t that why she ran away in the first place? Because she couldn’t deal with the pain, the memories, and the ghosts.

 

Besides, it’s not like she can offer him much. She’s just a sad girl who’s been broken and burnt, a woman who has chosen loneliness because she can’t bear to experience any more loss. Other than Prim, Peeta is the best person she knows. She wants him to have more.

 

So, on the nights when she feels her resolve crumble, she remembers the vow she once made to keep him safe and holds on to it.  Because, even though she knows she wasn’t responsible for the Games, or the war, she still can’t shake away the feeling that her actions have brought Peeta nothing but sorrow and pain.

 

And while Peeta, the old Peeta, the Peeta she saw at the victors’ meeting, has probably found a way to forgive her, she still hasn’t managed to forgive herself.

 

With a deep sigh, Katniss drains the last of her tea.

 

As the sky darkens to welcome the night, she silently wishes that, wherever Peeta is, he’s safe and warm.

 

XXXXX

 

The words spill out of Katniss’s lips before she can stop them, “Dr Aurelius, do you know anything about Peeta Mellark?"

 

Dr Aurelius relaxes into his chair. He's been waiting for this question for a while. Katniss never fails to mention Peeta in her sessions. He's surprised she's managed to go this long without openly asking him about her former district partner.

 

Keeping his tone as professional and detached as possible, the doctor says, "Yes, Katniss, I do. I know quite a bit about him. But, before I tell you anything, I need you to understand one thing. Peeta Mellark is my patient, just like you. I began treating him while he was in the Capitol and, given the delicate nature of his... condition, I've had to keep a close eye on him. I still monitor his progress regularly."

 

"His condition?” Static fills the space between them as Katniss considers the doctor’s words. “You mean the hijacking?"

 

"Yes. As I was saying, as a doctor, it is my duty to protect my patients. My conversations with you are completely confidential, and so are my conversations with him. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have, Katniss. But, please, keep in mind that there’s a limit as to how much I can share with you.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“Good. What would you like to know?”

 

There’s a short pause. Dr Aurelius rests his elbows on his desk, eagerly awaiting his patient’s words.

 

“Is he ok?” Katniss finally asks, anxiety clinging to every syllable.

 

Dr Aurelius imagines her sitting stiff as a board as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

 

The doctor smiles, fondly remembering the first time Peeta asked about Katniss. The boy had asked the exact same thing. “Yes. He is.”

 

“And… the hijacking?”

 

“Peeta has made a lot of progress. I believe that he’s no longer confused by what’s real and what isn’t, and he’s gained a full understanding of what happened to him. Now, as far as his episodes go, it’s been a long time since he’s had one. What’s more, he already knows what triggers them and how to manage them when they do happen. So, he’s no longer a danger to himself, or to others.”

 

On the other side of the line, Katniss sighs. Even from the Capitol, Dr Aurelius can sense her relief. “Can you tell me where he is?”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, the doctor answers, “Yes. He’s in District 1.”

 

“District 1!” Katniss sputters, “What is he doing in District 1?”

 

“He’s attending school.”

 

There’s another pause. Not for the first time since he started treating her, Dr Aurelius wishes he could see Katniss’s face. The girl has a tendency to clam up, which turns these long-distance sessions into a test to his patience and skills. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” the doctor prompts.

 

“Will he stay there?”

 

Worried by the sadness in Katniss’s voice, the doctor explains, “Right now, he’s not planning on staying there very long. He only registered for a year.”

 

“A year,” Katniss repeats softly.

 

“Listen, Katniss. I know you’ve been worried about Peeta. I’m glad you finally decided to ask about him, it means you’re getting ready to interact with the rest of the world. That’s a definite sign of progress.

 

“As I told you, Peeta has been making progress too. Going back to school is just a part of that.

 

“I can’t betray his trust, but I think you should know that he bears you no ill will. He asks me about you sometimes, in the same way you just did about him. He knows where you are, but he hasn’t contacted you because he doesn’t want to impose himself on you. He respects your decision to take some time out on your own. But you can write to him whenever you want. I could give you his address, and you could get Thom to post the letters for you. Is that something you’d like to do?”

 

Quietly, Katniss admits, “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

 

“That’s ok. The offer still stands. Whenever you need it, you’ll let me know. In the meantime, I’ll be happy to answer your questions.”

 

“Will you tell Peeta I asked about him?”

 

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he assures her. “I’ll wait until you let me know it’s ok.”

 

“Thanks, doctor.” The relief in her voice is so palpable it saddens him. Katniss has made a lot of progress, but she’s still terrified of the world. She’s not ready to think about others yet.

 

“You’re very welcome.”

 

Silence settles over them, allowing the full weight of their conversation to sink in for a few moments. 

 

Dr Aurelius claps his hands, enthusiastically introducing a new topic, “Now, tell me, what’s happening with that greenhouse of yours?”

 

XXXXX

 

Gradually, days grow short. Temperatures drop. The forest gets ready for winter. Katniss keeps herself busy.

 

Every day, she wakes up at the crack of dawn and goes hunting and foraging. Even though she has a working fridge, and access to a steady supply of canned goods, she begins to salt and cure enough meat and fish to last her well into the winter months.

 

She works in the small greenhouse she’s built on the back of the cabin, watching the small shrubs as they grow and blossom defying the cold temperatures of the world around her.

 

She doesn’t have much contact with the outside world, but she calls Dr Aurelius most weeks, and she uses her two-way radio and the signal amplifier to talk to her mom a couple of times each month. Most of their conversations are short; they’re both still struggling with Prim’s death and the pain it causes them. But every time they open up a little bit more, sharing small memories that bring them closer together.

 

One afternoon, during a particularly fierce storm, she turns on the radio and begins to go through the stations. Suddenly, her small room is filled with strange accents and voices from all over the country. Surprised, she slows her progress, stopping on each station long enough to figure out where the signal is coming from.

 

“… So, remember to tune in tomorrow night to find out all about our open cattle ranches and the new job opportunities…” _District 10_. Switch.

 

“… All I´m saying, Eloise, is that all these construction projects are being very beneficial for our district’s economy. I can’t remember the last time we had to cut down these many trees…” _District 7_. Switch.

 

“… to everyone listening out there, remember, you should apply sunscreen before you head out to the beach. It doesn’t work otherwise…” _District 4_. Switch.

 

“… the reconstruction efforts continue on the site of what was once our strongest military base,” _District 2_.

 

She’s about to turn the dial when the announcer’s words catch her attention, “This accomplished young man has been put in charge of the whole operation and now, for the first time since he moved to our district, we have him in our studio. Major Gale Hawthorne, it’s an honor to have you with us.”

 

The familiar name pierces through her, pushing the air out of her lungs and leaving her baffled.

 

Gale’s voice, pleasant and clear, bounces against the four concrete walls, “Thanks, Glen. It’s good to be here.”

 

Katniss stills, allowing Gale’s familiar voice to envelop her. His melodic cadence reaches deep into her soul.

 

In soft, measured words, Gale talks about unity, order, progress. He doesn’t say anything about the “Nut” collapsing in on itself, or about the hundreds of lives lost under the rubble of the military compound once it crumbled to the ground.

 

He mentions the future, the hope, the light this new government is spreading out through Panem. But he says nothing about the hatred, the darkness, or the blood he helped spill.

 

On and on, he talks about tomorrow while he conveniently forgets about yesterday.

 

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to come chat with us, Major Hawthorne,” the presenter says, his honeyed voice dripping with adulation.

 

“You’re welcome, Glen.”

 

Katniss reaches for the knob and turns the radio off. Silently, she stands up and walks out of the cabin and into the pouring rain.

 

Raindrops fall over her, drenching her clothes and mingling with her tears, gently washing away her sorrow and her pain. Slowly, the numbness in her chest recedes, leaving her exhausted, empty and, strangely, at peace.

 

Katniss looks up to the sky, to the fat dark clouds gathered above her and the shiny dark branches dancing under the storm. A smile paints her lips as she remembers running through these same woods, with Gale hot on her trail as they tried to find a shelter from the storm. _We were so young then_ , she thinks, _so innocent_.

 

The memory fades, and she thinks about her friend now. Living in District 2, working for the government, saying he’s going to build a new world.

 

Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.

 

She suddenly realizes that she doesn’t really care what Gale does anymore.

 

XXXXX

 

Katniss reaches the cabin and taps her boot against the top step to shake out the snow that’s gathered on her soles.

 

Stepping into the warm room, she drops her backpack next to her feet. With a tired sigh, she begins unbuttoning her thick coat and leaves it in a pile on the floor along with her boots and the rest of her protective gear. 

 

The shift in temperature makes her shiver. Rubbing her hands for warmth, she moves closer to the small fire burning in the hearth.

 

A moment later, she goes back for her backpack and begins the usual process of opening Thom’s latest package.

 

The two folded sheets of paper she finds resting over the cans make her smile.

 

The first one is a note from Haymitch letting her know that he’s already found a family to rent her house.

 

 **“They’re from District 6,”** the letter says. **“The man’s a school teacher, and his wife used to work in a factory –assembling cars, I think. She was pregnant when the war started. They have two girls now.”**

 

Katniss smiles. She’s glad Haymitch came up with a plan to rent out her house. She doesn’t intend to use it anytime soon, and it didn’t feel right to have it sitting empty when there isn’t enough housing in the district yet.

 

Her original idea had been to lend out her house, allowing a family to live there rent free. But when she had mentioned her plans to her mother, Mrs Everdeen had advised her against it.

 

Mrs Everdeen had explained that, under the new legislation, everyone had to pay for their own housing. “Local governments are no longer assigning houses to citizens when they join the local industry or when they get married,” she said, “there’s been an increase in salaries now, to compensate for the new living expenses.”

 

“I know you’re still receiving a steady sum every month, Katniss. And, even if it’s a lot less than what it used to be, you probably don’t need more. But, by paying rent, your tenants know that they can make demands on you. They shouldn’t feel like you’re doing them a favor, but like you are equal partners in a commercial transaction. You don’t have to charge a lot, but you should still charge something. You can always save the money and use it for repairs later on.”

 

Eventually, Katniss had followed her mother’s advice. A short note to Haymitch had put the whole thing in motion. And now, a few weeks later, a family was about to move in.

 

 _Just in time for the new year_ , Katniss thinks.

 

The note goes on to explain that Greasy Sae has cleaned the house, and placed all the things Katniss left behind inside some boxes which are now stored in the basement. **“You’ll be able to get to them whenever you want,”** Haymitch adds, **“Hope you’re keeping warm, Sweetheart. Happy new year.”**

 

Katniss chuckles. Haymitch has never been what one could call fatherly. He’s always been too much of a mess. But, in his own twisted way, she knows he cares; about her, about Peeta, and about all those other children he couldn’t save.

 

Setting Haymitch’s letter aside, Katniss reaches for the second paper. She unfolds it, expecting to find the newsletter Thom has been including with her deliveries for the last few months. A plain list of the activities the local council organizes for the people who live in District 12.

 

She has no plans to attend any of these events yet, but it warms her heart to know that her district has flourished enough that they can hold a small public market and a few other celebrations each month.

 

Her breath catches as soon as the paper falls open. It is a newsletter, but the usually sober page has been replaced by a beautiful work of art.

 

A delicate drawing of long boughs of holly wraps around the paper's edge. The glossy green leaves of winter greenery, dotted with bright red berries, are connected like a wreath, hugging the entire page.

 

A list of upcoming events is written inside the festive frame. The neat script, elegant and graceful, can only come from one hand. Peeta’s.

 

Katniss’s hands tremble as she holds the page. There’s a mad fluttering inside her chest, like a revolution of butterflies coming alive inside of her, desperately flapping their wings as a hundred different thoughts take flight in her mind.

 

Suddenly, the room begins to spin. Katniss closes her eyes.

 

Pressing the paper tightly against her chest, she wills her heart to slow down.

 

Deep, steady breaths help her regain her control.

 

As her mind settles down, a shy chuckle escapes her lips, gradually turning into a happy chortle which mingles with the stream of tears running down her cheeks.

 

Katniss wipes her tears away with the back of her hand and shakes her head, feeling flustered and dazed, but undeniably lighthearted.

 

Suddenly, a new thought pops into her mind. Rushing to her feet, she reaches for her two-way radio and dials Dr Aurelius’s number.

 

The doctor answers after the second ring. “Hello, Katniss!”

 

“Is he back?” she asks without preamble.

 

“Is who back?”

 

“Peeta, doctor,” she clarifies, trying to keep her voice even and her emotions in check, “Is Peeta Mellark back in District 12?”

 

“Oh! No. No, he’s still in District 1. The last time I spoke to him, he said he was going to spend his school break in the mountains up north.” There's a short pause. “What made you think he was back?”

 

Katniss sighs. She's exhausted all of a sudden. “I got this month’s newsletter today,” she explains, “He… painted it.”

 

“That’s right. Peeta mentioned he was working on that. I believe Thom asked him if he could do something special for the last month of the year. He was quite happy with the way it came out, said it was festive. What do you think? Do you like it?”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss says looking at the picture she still holds in her hand. Tears are pooling in her eyes again. “It’s beautiful.”

 

There's a small pause as the doctor’s words begin to sink in. Peeta hasn't come back. He’s still in District 1 and, somehow, he's kept in touch with Thom. _When did they become friends?_ She wonders, _and why is he spending his school break in the mountains? What is he doing there?_

 

Dr Aurelius breaks through her thoughts, his voice is surprisingly gentle, “Katniss, would you like me to give him a message for you?”

 

She hesitates for an instant. “Just… the next time you talk to him, could you tell him I said, ‘happy new year’?”

 

 

XXXXX

 

Peeta scans the landscape as he tries to find the one spot he wants to paint.

 

He stands in awe, lips slightly parted as he takes in the impressive rock formations that stand before him. They're like proud, tall giants, pushing through the earth beneath his feet as they try to reach the sky.

 

His fingers tap an anxious tune against his thigh, itching to capture the magic of the place before him. There's something majestic in the way the light bounces off the pink stones surrounding the ravine, painting shadows over each crevice and protruding ledge of rock. It's a breathtaking scene that makes him lightheaded with reverence.

 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Peeta turns his face towards the sky. His cheeks tingle under the warm caress of the shy morning sun.

 

The sound of water trickling along a shallow brook reaches his ears and, even though he's miles away, the soft melody immediately takes him home.

 

Behind his closed eyelids, the rocky landscape he’s in suddenly turns into a lush, green forest. The image brings a smile to Peeta's lips.

 

Tall firs and leafy maple trees sway in the gentle breeze. Puffy dandelions and white daisies litter the ground. A blue-crested robin soars across the sky while a fluffy squirrel scurries up a tree.

 

The familiar images are so vivid he can almost touch them.

 

 _Just a few more days_ , he thinks.

 

His year in District 1 is almost up.

 

His first few weeks were hard. People around him didn’t know what to think of him, or how to react when he was around. Fortunately, his kindness and talents didn’t go unnoticed for very long and, soon enough, his classmates began opening up to him.

 

He's spent months visiting art galleries and food markets, discovering old libraries and abandoned movie theaters along the way. Entire afternoons walking along the extravagant streets of the affluent district, laughing –and often squabbling– with his classmates as they talk about art, architecture, and design. And now, he feels like he’s ready to go home.

 

Home. Back to the town he misses so much, and the Meadow where his family lies; back to his people, back to Katniss.

 

Katniss. Who, despite the distance and the silence, hasn’t become a faded memory from his long-lost childhood days.

 

He carries her with him wherever he goes, always a hairsbreadth away from his thoughts.

 

She's the face he sees in his dreams, the voice in his head that brings him back from the dark terrors of his occasional episodes, the bright light that guides him, like a shiny beacon of hope, leading the way back home.

 

He hasn't seen her in months, but he can still recall the exact color of her eyes, the precise timbre of her voice, the taste of her skin.

 

She’s is a piece of his heart, a part of his soul, the only girl who has managed to hold his attention for long.

 

In his mind, she’s no longer the fantasy from his childhood crush but the girl he got to know before their first Game and during their Victory Tour. The one who shared a cave with him in the forest and who joined him for what he thought was his last sunset over the Capitol rooftops.

 

Now that everything’s been said and done and he’s had time to think things through, he has a better understanding of what was real and what wasn’t. Like the indisputable fact that Katniss risked her life to get his medicine; or the way she melted into his embrace during the night, trusting him to keep the horrors at bay. And, as if those things weren’t proof enough of her loyalty and her trust, there’s also the way she fought, tooth and nail, to keep him safe in the Capitol; refusing to give up on him even when he had given up on himself.

 

He needs her like he needs air, and standing in this place, surrounded by nature, reminds him of her in a way nothing else does.

 

 _Just a few more days_ , he repeats before opening his eyes and turning to set up his easel.

 

XXXXX

 

“Welcome home, kid!” Haymitch greets, waving enthusiastically as he waits for Peeta to get off the train.

 

“Thanks, Haymitch!” Peeta answers, rushing to give his former mentor a one-armed hug. “It’s good to be back.”

 

With a couple of affectionate pats on the back, Haymitch lets Peeta go. “Is that all you brought?” he asks, pointing at Peeta’s small suitcase.

 

“No, there’s more. I have to go to the front of the train to collect the rest of my stuff.”

 

“Alright, lead the way.”

 

The two men set on their way, talking animatedly as they share the latest news.

 

“I think it’s a terrible idea,” Haymitch grumbles as they wait for one of the attendants to bring Peeta’s suitcase, “I don’t see why the opening of the medicine factory has to be such a big deal. They’re already talking about sending film crews and “personalities” for the grand opening. Ugh, they’re going to turn this place into a circus.”

 

“Yeah, it sounds a bit over the top. I guess President Paylor is eager to show all the progress that’s been made. Remember the ceremony she hosted in District 8 a few weeks back? She just wants people to see that things are looking better. At least she’s not lying, right?”

 

Haymitch shrugs. “Yeah, when the camera crews leave we’ll still have paved streets and a decent source of employment.” Suddenly, his gray eyes light up. “Speaking of which, did Thom send you the pictures of your house?”

 

“He did!” Peeta beams. “I can’t wait to see it!”

 

“It looks good; like one of the houses from the old merchant quarter.” Looking out into the street, he adds, “I hope you’re prepared for a big shock, kid, a lot has changed since you left.”

 

“Good,” Peeta says with a smile, “we were all due for a change.”

 

XXXXX

 

A few days later, Peeta steps into the Main Square. 

 

The freshly paved streets have been swept clean, a sharp hint of bleach lingers in the air. The scent makes his stomach turn.

 

A temporary stage has been erected in front of the new Town Hall. A small podium with a microphone and a handful of chairs, arranged in a semicircle, litter the stage.

 

The building, the chairs, and even the podium might be new, but the sight is eerily familiar.

 

 _Not a reaping_ , Peeta reminds himself.

 

The sound of the train station’s whistle fills the air, announcing the arrival of a new train and startling Peeta back into reality.

 

People from all over Panem have come to celebrate the grand opening of District 12’s new medicine factory.

 

Peeta sees them, slowly filtering into the large open space as they look for a place to stand. They all seem eager to watch the show, but he’s in no hurry. So, instead of rushing to find a place, he takes a moment to appreciate his surroundings.

 

“Hey, Peeta!” Thom calls out from where a group of people has begun to gather near the stage. “Come stand with us, we saved you a spot.”

 

 “Thanks, Thom!” Peeta waves back.

 

Once he reaches Thom and his small group, Peeta begins shaking hands and greeting everyone who’s assembled there. He smiles pleasantly, looking at the familiar faces he sees every day until a pair of slate gray eyes stops him short.

 

“Hey, man, how are you?” Gale says, a cautious smile perched on his lips.

 

“Major Gale Hawthorne!” Peeta exclaims, clasping Gale’s hand in his and giving it a firm shake. “Nice to see you!”

 

“Yeah, same here,” Gale says, sounding relieved. “I heard you were in D1. When did you get back?”

 

“A couple weeks ago. I’m still readjusting back to life in 12.”

 

“Yeah, I bet.” Gale’s eyes suddenly turn serious, lowering his voice he asks, “Have you seen her?”

 

“No, she’s still out there,” Peeta says, gesturing towards the woods.

 

Quietly, Gale nods.

 

Now that the surprise of seeing Gale has worn off, Peeta notices how tired he looks, how sad.

 

The tough soldier he remembers from District 13 has lost weight and, if the dark circles under his eyes are any indication, he’s also been losing sleep.

 

The Gale he remembers stood tall and proud, always ready to face any challenge, but the man before him seems broken and sad.

 

For the first time since the war ended, Peeta wonders what Gale’s new life is like in District 2. Without thinking, he blurts out, “You know these woods like the back of your hand, right? Maybe you could pay her a visit.”

 

Gale sighs, causing his shoulders to slump forward. His next words are as shocking as a bucketful of ice-cold water dumped on someone’s head “She doesn’t want me there.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Our last conversation didn't go well,” Gale admits.

 

Peeta frowns. His mind races as he tries to remember a disagreement between the hunting partners, but he can’t. The last time he saw them together was in Tigris’s basement. Everything was fine then.

 

He wants to ask a thousand questions, but the storm raging behind Gale’s eyes stops him short. So, he holds his tongue and waits.

 

“I know I made mistakes,” Gale finally says, “Looking back, I’m not proud of the work I did while I was in 13. I was young, and I let my anger and my thirst for revenge cloud my judgment.” His eyes glisten in the morning sun. He blinks, unsuccessfully trying to fight back the tears which are now falling down his cheeks.

 

With an annoyed huff, Gale roughly wipes away his tears. “I should have known better. I should have listened to Katniss. But I didn't. And now Prim's dead, and we're still here, and there's nothing I can do to ever make things right again.”

 

Gale’s words wrap around Peeta’s shoulders, they're like a wet blanket, thick and heavy, pulling him down into a deep dark pit. “What did you do?” he whispers.

 

Stormy gray locks with deep blue. “The worst thing I could have done. Ask Katniss, she should be the one to tell you about it.”

 

The shrill sound of a microphone’s feedback rings through the air making everyone in the square flinch.

 

“Checking. One, two, three. Checking,” a technician says from the podium.

 

Gale clears his throat. “Looks like they’re ready for us,” he says, pointing towards the stage.

 

“I’m not going up there,” Peeta says. “President Paylor asked, but I don’t do public appearances anymore.”

 

Gale nods. “I’ll see you later then.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

With a sigh, Gale turns and begins to walk away. He’s almost reached the end of the square when Peeta calls out to him, “Gale! Say ‘Hi’ to your mom for me, tell her I’m still trying to replicate her beetroot soup.”

 

Gale smiles, Hazelle’s soup has already become famous in District 2. “Will do. Stay safe, Mellark.”

 

XXXXX

 

It takes a couple of days for the craziness of the medicine factory opening to die down. But, as soon as it does, Peeta packs a backpack with a sketchpad and a few painting supplies. After adding a sandwich, an apple and a thermos full of tea, he heads out into the woods.

 

The end of summer is fast approaching. He can already see the luscious green trees turning yellow before his eyes. Peeta smiles. He can’t wait to see the entire forest covered in fire red leaves.

 

He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind. So, he walks slowly, with careful, measured steps, as he follows the narrow paths of packed dirt which crisscross the forest floor.

 

His heart pounds an anxious rhythm inside his chest, his palms are sweaty, his senses on high alert.

 

He’s not afraid. He’s survived two arenas, and gone on enough nature walks around the mountains of District 1 to know his way around the woods. Besides, he has a geo-locator to help him find his way back home, and a knife he still knows how to use.

 

He’s excited, though. Excited to be out there, finally exploring the woods Katniss loves so much.

 

After walking for about an hour, he reaches the top of a hill. There’s a flat rock there, surrounded by small shrubs and trees. One side of the rock seems to hang over the edge of the slope, giving him an unrestricted view of the green valley underneath.

 

Satisfied, Peeta drops onto the rock. _This is the perfect spot_ , he thinks as he pulls his food and painting supplies out of his bag.

 

XXXXX

 

Peeta props his sketchbook up against his thigh. With delicate precision, he begins to trace the contours of the brook that meanders beneath him.

 

Over the last couple of weeks, the world has turned red. Peeta plays, mixing vibrant oranges and dark browns as he adds color to his sketch.

 

Soft golden light bounces off the clouds making them shine. He focuses on them next, trying to come up with the right combination of colors to capture the effect.

 

He’s so lost in his work that he barely notices the soft rustling of dry leaves a few feet away.

 

Curious, he turns towards the sound.

 

Suddenly, the whole world stills.

 

Every sound dies.

 

Trapped inside his chest, Peeta’s heart screams.

 

Katniss Everdeen, looking as healthy and strong as a goddess, stands just a few steps away from him.

 

Peeta holds his breath, too surprised to move, too mesmerized to pull his eyes away from the gorgeous woman in front of him.

 

He’s seen many versions of Katniss throughout the years. The frightened young girl who had reached rock bottom, the determined tribute who refused to let him die, the glorious victor who burst into flames.

 

They all hold a place in his heart.

 

But, as dear to him as they all are, none of them can compare to the woman who stands before him now.

 

She's all soft lines and joy, with her sun-kissed cheeks and plump lips slightly parted in a half smile that's only meant for him.

 

Slowly, Peeta begins to breathe, filling his lungs with short, shallow gasps.

 

He can hear his heart, pounding in his ears, beating a mile a minute as it tries to leap out of his chest.

 

It’s like being back in Caesar Flickerman’s stage all over again. Unable to do anything but watch as Katniss suddenly appears from behind a curtain, a blur of yellow taffeta and smiles rushing straight into his arms.

 

He remembers being so happy, so relieved to have her back by his side, that his young, innocent heart had almost stopped.

 

And now, all these years later, he’s glad it didn’t. Because all the joy he felt that day is nothing compared to how he feels now. Lost in this forest, hidden away from the world, drowning in the depths of Katniss's gray eyes once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!   
> So, this chapter was really hard to write. I kept on typing and deleting, second guessing all my decisions. In the end I'm happy with the way it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> There's a whole section about Peeta's time in D1 that I eliminated, it broke the narrative and made the chapter way too long. I still have it, though. It needs some work, but I'm thinking about turning it into an outtake and adding it at the end of the story. Let me know if you'd like that.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, commenting and, most of all, thanks for your patience and support. 
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	4. Part 4 (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter of this story, but it's turning out to be really long. So, I've decided to break it into two parts.
> 
> The good news is that both parts are full of Everlark GBT goodness. I hope you enjoy.

 

Katniss reaches the top of the hill and takes a deep breath. Crisp autumn air fills her lungs.

 

Her eyes scan the clusters of trees and shrubs around her. The world is quickly turning red. Soon, the woods will be bare.

 

She starts walking again, dodging tree trunks and bushes as she makes her way back to her home by the lake. Once the vegetation begins to thin out, she picks up the pace.

 

She’s about to reach the small clearing by the creek when the world comes tumbling to a screeching halt.

 

Katniss freezes.

 

 _He’s back!_ her mind screams.

 

Peeta Mellark sits against a rock; eyes narrowed in concentration as he focuses on the sketch pad he’s holding up against his thigh.

 

Katniss keeps still, listening to the mad beat of her racing heart.

 

Her eyes follow the graceful movements of Peeta’s hand over the pad. There’s something soothing about the way he sketches; with such precision and grace. It’s almost like watching a slow dance between the pencil and the blank page.

 

Gradually, her heart slows down.

 

She turns her attention to Peeta's face.

 

He looks good. Strong. Healthy.

 

His hair has grown back, and he’s recovered the weight he lost during the war. The scars on his face have disappeared under the golden stubble covering his jaw.

 

She wants to run to him, to wrap her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in the crook of his neck; but she hasn’t seen him in years, and she doesn’t know where they stand. So, she waits.

 

She doesn’t take her eyes off of him, though, terrified that he might fade back into the forest if she looks away.

 

A playful gust of wind comes crashing through the trees making the leaves rustle in its wake.

 

Alerted by the sound, Peeta looks up from his work.

 

Blue meets silver.

 

For a split second, the whole world fades away.

 

Peeta’s voice, deep and sweet as honey, breaks the spell. “Hey!"

 

A breathy chuckle escapes Katniss’s lips. “Hi!”

 

Gesturing towards the thermos by his side, he asks, “Would you like some tea?”

 

Katniss nods. Her body tingles in anticipation as she closes the distance between them. With trembling hands, she lifts her bow from her shoulders and sets it to rest against the rock.

 

In one swift motion, Peeta closes his sketchbook and drops it on the ground. Then, he reaches for his backpack and rummages through it for a bit. With an exaggerated flourish, he pulls a small travel cup out of the bag and hands it to Katniss. “For you.”

 

Katniss smiles. “Thank you,” she says, clutching the cup tightly between her hands.

 

Peeta uncaps the thermos and, with a steady hand, fills Katniss’s mug. He then turns around to fill his own.

 

“Sugar?” he offers, pulling a small squirt bottle from the side pocket of his bag.

 

Katniss’s eyes widen. “Mm-hmm.”

 

Peeta adds a splash of sugar syrup into her tea.

 

Katniss smiles. “Thanks.”

 

She settles beside him on the rock. It’s a tight fit. When Peeta moves to drop the bottle back into the bag, their arms almost touch.

 

Pressing the warm cup against her chest, Katniss takes a deep breath. Her heart is racing again. She´s so overwhelmed she can’t think straight.

 

Next to her, Peeta takes a sip of his tea.

 

She follows his lead.

 

Peeta turns to look at her. Blue eyes dark and deep as the sea. “You ok?” he asks.

 

Katniss nods. “You?”

 

He smiles. “Yeah. I'm ok.”

 

Turning to the sketchbook on the ground, she asks, “What were you working on?”

 

“It's just a landscape,” he says, lifting the book off the ground, opening it and showing it to her. “I was trying to capture the movement of the clouds.”

 

Her eyes widen, taking in every inch of the landscape in Peeta’s hands. He’s captured all the details of the forest around them. The colors of the trees, the twigs and small knots on the branches, the texture of the leaves. And the clouds. They’re almost as delicate as the ones in the sky. “It's beautiful!”

 

Peeta rubs the back of his neck and gives her a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

 

Katniss turns away and takes another sip of her tea. She feels a bit more in control of herself now that they’ve started talking. But being so close to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body, is making her lightheaded.

 

Determined to keep the conversation going, she asks, “Have you been back long?”

 

“A couple of months. I came back at the end of the war, as soon as Dr Aurelius released me, but things were just getting started here.  So, I left for a while. I went to District 1 and enrolled in school there.”

 

Katniss’s chest tightens. The information isn’t new to her, but hearing it from his lips makes it a lot more real.

 

“I registered for some business classes, and I spent a semester in the fine arts academy there,” Peeta explains.

 

“What was it like?”

 

Peeta shrugs. “It was good. The school was great, and most people were kind. But I never meant to stay there for long.”

 

Peeta turns his attention back to the sketchpad he’s still holding, he closes it and sets it back on the ground. Wrapping both hands around his steaming tea cup, he goes on, “So, once I finished my classes, I came back here. Things changed a lot while I was gone. There’s a town once more. People from all over are settling down here.” He smiles. “I’m just one of them now.”

 

Katniss nods. She hasn’t seen the town herself, but she’s read the newsletters Thom sends her every month. She knows all about the dances and social events the new major’s office organizes to strengthen the community’s bonds.

 

She also knows about the medicine factory, and the big celebration President Paylor hosted in District 12.

 

She almost left her cabin for a few days when she read Gale’s name on the program, worried that he might find the time to make his way up there. In the end, she had decided against it. If Gale wanted to find her, he would. It was best to stay put. She didn’t want to upset any government officials because she had fled the scene. Again.

 

A knot settles in her throat when she thinks that Peeta might have been back in time for the factory’s opening. His name wasn’t on any of the programs she saw, but that just means he didn’t have an official role in the festivities.

 

A barrage of questions quickly floods her mind. Her fingers tighten around her cup as she tries to keep her head from spinning.

 

Did Peeta run into Gale? Did they talk? Does he know about the bombs, about Prim?

 

With slow, measured movements, she brings the cup to her lips and takes another sip.

 

Peeta’s soft voice brings her out of her thoughts. “And you? How's life in the woods?”

 

Katniss swallows, grateful for the change of topic. She's not ready to talk about the deep stuff. Not yet.

 

“It’s ok.” She smiles. “Quiet. Busy sometimes.” She takes another sip. “How's Haymitch?”

 

“Alive,” Peeta says with a light chuckle.

 

Katniss laughs.

 

“He raises geese now.”

 

“What?” she blurts out.

 

“Yeah,” Peeta smiles, “someone told him geese were a good investment. They're pretty resilient! He sells the eggs they lay, and the feathers they shed. Once a year, Sae buys a couple and roasts them.”

 

Her lips turn up in a smile at the mention of the old Hob vendor. “How’s Sae doing?”

 

“She's doing great! Her daughter and granddaughter live with her now. They run a diner on the ground floor of one of the houses in Victors’ Village. The three of them live on the top floor.”

 

“She sounds like a proper merchant,” Katniss exclaims.

 

Peeta nods. “She is. The entire Village is like a second merchant quarter. There aren't as many shops as in the town center, but we have a general store and a greengrocer.”

 

She turns to face him, a sly smile perched on her lips. “And a bakery?”

 

“Yeah,” Peeta chuckles, his neck and cheeks are completely crimson now. “There's a bakery too.”

 

He tells her then, about the changes he did to his house, about the bakery and how strange it seems to be known as the district’s baker and nothing more; how inappropriate it is that children have begun to refer to him as Mr Mellark.

 

He explains about Rowan and Claire –the two settlers from District 5 who work for him– and about coming to the woods to paint and to escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

 

Katniss smiles as she listens to him, mesmerized. There’s a light in his eyes that she hasn’t seen in a long time. The warmth in his smile makes her lightheaded with joy.

 

His voice, slightly deeper than she remembers, washes over her, caressing her and spreading through her chest like warm honey.

 

They haven’t spoken or seen each other for over two years. The last time they were together, Katniss was shooting an arrow into the president’s chest, and he was struggling to keep her alive.

 

Their last conversations were all tainted by the pain and fear Peeta’s hijacking brought into their lives. And still, sitting on a rocky ledge in the middle of what once was a forbidden forest, they talk as if none of that had ever happened. As if he had never been taken away from her and they hadn’t spent any time apart.

 

In this small haven, they’re not tributes or victors, they’re not even district partners, they’re simply Katniss and Peeta; neighbors, classmates, friends.

 

By the time she finishes her tea, the sun has begun to set. A part of her wants to stay a little longer to share the sunset with him, but she doesn’t know if he’s brought a flashlight, and she doesn’t want him to walk back home in the dark.

 

Reluctantly, she hands back her empty cup and rises to her feet.

“It's getting late,” she says, reaching for her bow. “I have to head back. Thanks for the tea.”

 

Peeta wraps his hands around Katniss’s empty cup. “You’re welcome.”

 

Katniss sets the bow back across her shoulders and turns to look at him, unsure of what to do next.

 

Setting her cup aside, Peeta stands up. “So,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets and letting out a deep sigh. “I come by here every week. Mostly on Saturdays. I’ll be happy to share my tea with you whenever you want.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says. With one last smile, she turns to walk away.

 

She’s only taken a couple of steps, when Peeta calls out, “Katniss!”

 

She whips around so quickly her braid hits her chin.

 

“It was good to see you again,” Peeta says, giving her that shy smile that makes her heart flutter.

 

XXXXX

 

The next few days pass by in a blur.

 

Katniss follows her routines. She tends to her greenhouse, cleans her house, goes out hunting and foraging every day.

 

Every afternoon, she sits on her front steps and plans for the winter ahead. She keeps herself busy by making lists of the things she needs to do before the cold weather sets in, and she thinks about Peeta, replaying every detail of their encounter in the woods.

 

She still can’t believe he’s back; or how easy it was to fall into conversation with him, how comfortable she was by his side.

 

She thinks that, for the most part, he looks exactly as she remembers him, handsome and strong. But there’s this new air about him, rugged, enticing, captivating.

 

Her cheeks flush pink just thinking about it. But she can’t stop herself. This new effect Peeta has on her is baffling, intriguing.

 

It's late at night when her brain finally catches on. _He’s not a boy anymore._

 

Katniss shakes her head. A happy chortle spills from her lips as a sense of victory sets in.

 

Peeta survived. He’s alive. He’s safe. And, despite all the dangers he faced, he’s managed to become a man.

 

A man with chiseled features and piercing blue eyes who seems to glow under the warm sunlight, a little voice inside her head says making her whole body tingle.

 

XXXXX

 

Peeta sits on the rock and waits. His backpack with supplies lies by his feet, but he ignores it, too anxious to sketch or paint.

 

Looking for something to occupy his mind, he thinks back to all the weeks he spent walking around the forest, hoping to find the right spot –the one place where Katniss would find him– before he landed on this rock. It seems incredible now, how one small choice could make such a difference in his life.

 

For what feels like the millionth time, he plays back his conversation with Katniss in his mind; trying to remember every laugh, every sigh, every pause.

 

He thinks about the fullness of her lips, the glow on her cheeks, the wonder in her eyes.

 

His heartbeat spikes.

 

Minutes drag on.

 

He’s beginning to wonder if last week’s encounter was nothing but a dream –an elaborate hallucination created by his hyperactive imagination– when Katniss comes bounding through the trees.

 

Her braid is pinned up this time, wrapped around the back of her head as a rustic crown that frames her face. She’s slightly out of breath, her cheeks glow from the effort of her short gasps, but when she smiles, the world seems to shine.

 

Besides her bow and arrows, she carries a small basket of freshly-picked strawberries.

 

“For the bakery,” she says, pushing the basket into Peeta's hands before he even has a chance to say ‘Hi.'

 

Peeta's eyes widen at the sight of the juicy red fruit. “Where did you get these?”

 

“My greenhouse,” she says with a shrug. “I have a small bush.”

 

“A greenhouse,” he mutters, picking a strawberry from the basket and rolling it between his index and his thumb. His eyes find hers. “Sounds like fun.”

 

“It is. It’s not very big,” Katniss rushes to explain, “but it keeps me busy.”

 

Peeta nods, dropping the berry back in the basket. “What else do you grow?”

 

“Blueberries, zucchini, potatoes, carrots, spinach, mint, and a bunch of herbs,” she says, ticking off the different items with her fingers.

 

“Wow! And is everything as good-looking as these?”

 

“Yep,” she answers, her face beaming with pride.

 

 “Well,” he says looking at the basketful of fruit in his hands, “I’m thinking… pie?” he asks, looking at her with a raised brow.

 

Katniss’s eyes light up.

 

Peeta chuckles. “Pie it is!” Leaving the basket next to his backpack, he adds, “Thanks for the gift, Katniss. I’ll bring you a slice next week.”

 

XXXXX

 

Weeks go by.

 

Peeta bakes. Katniss hunts.

 

Back in Victors’ Village, Haymitch drinks, Sae cooks.

 

Life goes on.

 

Every Saturday, Peeta packs his backpack and heads out into the woods and, every Saturday, Katniss meets him on their spot. They talk, they laugh, they remember, they share.

 

For the first time since they were reaped, they are free. Without cameras or expectations, their friendship blossoms.

 

When Dr Aurelius finds out about their arrangement, he smiles. _Looks like these two are going to be ok_ , he thinks, carefully keeping his opinion to himself. He knows the last thing his patients need is to be pushed around.

 

He’s still happy for them, though.

 

Katniss and Peeta are sitting on their rock one day when a chilly breeze comes rushing through the trees.

 

Twin shivers run through their spines making them chuckle.

 

He turns to face her.

 

Her braid’s come undone, leaving windswept strands of hair dancing around her face. It reminds Peeta of how she used to look at night, right before they went to bed, slightly disheveled, utterly irresistible.

 

His mouth goes dry. Things are good between them –great even– but there’s something he hasn’t told her yet, and it’s something that can no longer wait.

 

Looking straight into Katniss’s eyes, Peeta says, “I’m sorry.”

 

Startled, Katniss snaps, “What for?”

 

Peeta snorts. “You want a full list?”

 

Katniss scowls.

 

Peeta shakes his head, this is not how he wanted this conversation to start. Trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, he clarifies, “I’m sorry about District 13.”

 

Katniss’s eyes widen. He can see her mind working, scrambling through the memories and the pain.

 

Before she has a chance to talk, Peeta presses a finger to her lips. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it. But I need to say this, please?” he pleads.

 

Katniss’s shoulders slump. Resigned, she nods.

 

With a shaky sigh, Peeta starts again. His words, pained and soft, bring tears to Katniss’s eyes. “I’m sorry I attacked you. I’m sorry about all the awful things I said.” His voice falters as he adds, “But, more than anything, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you back then.”

 

“Peeta!” she whimpers begging him to stop.

 

Peeta shakes his head refusing her plea. As difficult as this is, he needs to go on. “The thing is, Katniss, I used to think we were only together because the Games had made it so.” Tears sting his eyes, but he keeps going, “That we were partners, teammates, and nothing more.”

 

With a sigh, Peeta turns towards the trees and the open valley stretching below. “But now I know I was wrong.”

 

Katniss listens. Sad, fat tears keep pooling in her eyes. She lets them fall.

 

A sad chuckle escapes Peeta’s lips. “It’s taken me all this time to finally understand that we were friends, real friends.” Lowering his eyes to the ground, he lets go of one more confession. “What I did back then makes me feels like a traitor.”

 

“Stop,” she says, reaching for his hand and giving it a tug. “Look at me!”

 

He does as she asks. Her tear-stained cheeks tear at his heart. He wants to wipe them clean. He squeezes her hand instead.

 

Katniss squeezes back.

 

“You are not a traitor,” she says, forcefully enunciating every word, “You never were.” Pulling her shoulders back to look straight into his eyes, she says, “If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”

 

Peeta pulls back. “Kat—,”

 

“It’s my turn now!” she snaps.

 

Peeta’s aggravated huff resounds around them. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he nods.

 

Pushing all the air out of her lungs, she says, “I should have been more honest with you.” Her eyes land on their linked hands. “If I had, you wouldn’t have had a reason to doubt me.”

 

Peeta swallows. From the corner of her eye, she sees his Adam’s apple going up and down as he holds back a retort.

 

“I know what the hijacking did to you, Peeta,” she says, as gently as she can, “I know I had no control over that. But I shouldn’t have made it so easy for them. If you had known how important you were...” Using her free hand, she wipes away her tears. Her voice breaks as she continues, “You should have known I cared. _I_ should have told you I cared. But I didn’t. And, for that, I’ll always be sorry.”

 

She looks back up. Peeta’s crying openly now, the glimmering tear tracks on his cheeks match her own.

 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling her into his arms.

 

Katniss leans into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest, she pulls him as close as she can.

 

It’s been so long since he’s held her –so long since anyone’s held her, really– that she burrows into his embrace. She soaks up his warmth and steadiness, following the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the rhythmic beating of his heart as it pounds steadily inside his chest.

 

She stays there, protected by the safety of Peeta’s arms, and smiles; allowing real happiness to course through her veins for the first time in a long while. And, when he buries his face in her neck and breathes her in, her heart soars, finally grateful to be alive.

 

XXXXX

 

“So, what do you think?” Peeta asks, lifting his sketch pad off his knee and showing it to Katniss. “Is it festive enough?”

 

Katniss looks up from the vest she’s knitting. Her eyes narrow as she inspects the sketch Peeta’s making for December’s newsletter. This year’s wreath is made of poinsettias. 

 

“I like it,” she says, “Are they going to be all red, or will you leave some white ones too?”

 

Peeta scratches the back of his head. “Um, I’m thinking about using both. I also want to add some leaves.” He points to a couple different points on the page. “Here, and here.”

 

Katniss nods. “Sounds good,” she adds with a smile.

 

Stretching her handiwork along the knitting needle, she asks, “What do you think, is this wide enough?”

 

Peeta raises a questioning eyebrow. “Wide enough for…”

 

Katniss huffs, leaving a white puffy cloud trailing in the chilly air.

 

She’s only been knitting for a few weeks. Her previous projects, a couple of scarfs and a throw blanket, were easy enough, but knitting a vest is turning out to be harder than she expected.

 

“It’s supposed to be a vest,” she grumbles.

 

Peeta purses his lips, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a chuckle. “Is that supposed to be the waist?” he asks.

 

Katniss nods. To illustrate her point, she stands up and places the needle over her stomach.

 

Peeta inspects it for a moment, then nods. “I think it’s good.”

 

Satisfied, Katniss moves to sit down back by his side.

 

A comfortable silence settles over them as they go back to their work. Katniss finds it soothing. She likes sitting next to Peeta like that, feeling his closeness and warmth as they share a cup of tea in the stillness of their forest.

 

Sadly, winter is fast approaching. Days are already becoming shorter and colder.

 

She’s already begun to wonder what they’ll do once the cold weather truly sets in. Even with their heavy winter jackets, they might not be able to spend this much time out in the open without getting sick.

 

Katniss hasn’t come up with a solution yet, but she knows she needs to. If only because, the mere thought of canceling her weekly visits with Peeta makes her stomach churn.

 

“Got a letter from District 1 today,” Peeta announces, breaking through her thoughts.

 

Startled, she turns to look at him. “You did?”

 

Peeta nods. “Yeah, one of my friends sent a bunch of photographs from when I was there.”

 

“Can I see them?”

 

Her eagerness brings a smile to Peeta’s lips. “Sure!” Dropping his sketchbook by his side, he opens his backpack and pulls a small envelope out of it. He hands it over to Katniss.

 

Carefully, Katniss pulls the thin stack of glossy pictures out. Her eyes focus on the first one, and she smiles. “This is from your first days there,” she says.

 

Peeta nods. “How can you tell?”

 

Her finger dances over the image without touching it. “Your hair. It was too short back then,” turning back to him, she adds, “and you didn’t have a beard.”

 

His cheeks redden, and his hand reaches out to scratch the golden scruff on his cheek. “Yeah, this came a bit later.”

 

She moves on, slowly flipping through the pictures while Peeta tells her the story behind each of them.

 

“That’s my dorm… That’s the Fine Arts building where I took my classes… That’s the bookstore where I got all my books…”

 

The next photograph shows Peeta standing in front of an enormous rock formation. Next to him, a boy with spiky magenta hair and a slim girl, who doesn’t seem to be much taller than Katniss, smile brightly at the camera.

 

“That was my first visit to the mountains,” he explains.

 

Katniss nods. Pointing to Peeta’s companions, she asks, “Who are they?”

 

“Tobias and Emme.”

 

“Emme?” she repeats, slowly drawing out the short name as if she’s tasting it.

 

“Yeah,” Peeta chuckles, “her name’s Emerald, but everyone calls her Emme.”

 

Katniss’s curious eyes inspect the photograph. She’s pretty, this Emme, with deep green eyes that shine as brightly as the emeralds she was named after, and straight black hair that reaches her shoulders, framing her round face and highlighting her fair skin.

 

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Katniss asks, “Are they your friends?”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Pointing to the boy on the photograph, Peeta explains, “Tobias is a weaver. He’s from District 8, he used to work on one of the factories there. He makes the most colorful tapestries I’ve ever seen. And they’re enormous too! The last one he made was big enough to cover the wall of the entrance hall in the Justice Building.”

 

Peeta’s enthusiasm is contagious. Katniss smiles, trying to imagine the piece he’s describing. “And her?”

 

“Emme is a sculptor.” Turning to look at the sky, he adds, “She was my first friend in District 1.”

 

The words are simple enough, but they’re delivered with enough melancholy to make Katniss’s chest constrict.

 

The small stack of photographs turns into a block of lead in her hands. With a pained sigh, Katniss drops them onto her lap and turns her eyes to the forest she knows so well.

 

Her mind flies back to her cabin and her father’s lake, to the quiet, peaceful life she leads there. Then, she reminds herself of every happy moment she’s shared with Peeta over the last few weeks. As she fills her mind with things which bring her joy, she's able to ignore the unpleasant questions rushing through her head.

 

A part of her wants to know everything there is to know about this girl and her connection to Peeta, but there’s another part that’s terrified of what she might find.

 

What if he tells her Emme is more than just a friend to him? How will she deal with that?

 

The mere thought hurts enough to make her want to run back into the woods and hide.

 

Peeta’s warm hand on her forearm brings her back. “No one talked to me the first month I was there,” he explains, his voice soft and sad. “They just didn’t know what to make of me, I guess; the tribute turned victor, turned revolutionary.

 

“But Emme didn’t care. The moment I walked into the classroom, she just smiled and cleared a space for me on her workbench.”

 

Katniss’s nod indicates she’s listening, but she doesn’t turn.

 

“We didn’t talk much at first. But we shared a few classes together, so…” Peeta trails off. His thumb begins rubbing small circles over Katniss’s arm. “She was raised by two victors.”

 

Katniss whips around to face Peeta. “What?”

 

He gives her a small smile that says he’s glad to have her attention. “Her parents were killed when she was little. I think it was during a robbery. The thief was armed, something went wrong. Her mother’s siblings took her in.”

 

“They were both victors?” she whispers.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“From District 1?”

 

Peeta nods. “When Emme was ten, she was admitted to the Tribute Academy, but she was only there for a year. They kicked her out of the program after she dislocated her knee in a practice session. That’s when she began her professional training as a carver.”

 

 _The niece of two victors being thrown out of the career program? They can’t have been pleased._ “What did they do?” Katniss asks.

 

“The aunt and uncle?”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

Peeta shakes his head. “According to Emme, the day of her accident was the happiest day of their lives.”

 

Katniss nods. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have believed Peeta’s words. But, after everything she’s learned in the last few years, she understands. Not even careers wanted their children to be involved with the Games.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders if the death of Emme’s parents was really an accident, or if it was a message from President Snow and his cronies. “What happened to them?”

 

Peeta shrugs. “I don’t know. The last time Emme saw them, they were boarding a train bound for the Capitol. They weren’t mentoring that year, but they had been invited to the Quarter Quell celebrations.”

 

Silence settles over them as Peeta’s words sink in.

 

Katniss has had enough conversations with Dr Aurelius to know that she can’t blame herself for the things that happened during the war, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to distance herself from the victors’ fates. No matter what Dr Aurelius says, she knows her actions turned all of them into targets for the president’s rage.

 

A deep sadness settles over her shoulders. She doesn’t resist it. It’s a familiar sensation, after all, a feeling of hopelessness usually accompanied by memories of bombs and destruction.

 

She holds still, waiting for the avalanche of memories to wash over her but, strangely, only one thought occupies her mind. “So,” she says, looking at the ground and hating herself for how broken she sounds, “you dated a career.”

 

Peeta squeezes her arm, a gentle reminder that he hasn’t let go of her once during the entire conversation.

 

“No,” he says, sounding aggravated, “I didn’t. I haven’t dated anyone, Katniss, Emme and I were just friends,” his voice softens, “That’s it.”

 

Katniss closes her eyes. In the darkness, Peeta’s words wrap around her, soothing her worries away.

 

She’s about to open her eyes and look back at him when that constant fear of allowing herself to love rears up its ugly head once more. “You miss her, though,” she whispers.

 

“Yes. I do,” Peeta quietly admits.

 

Using his free hand, Peeta reaches for Katniss’s chin. Gently he turns her face up towards his.  His thumb caresses her cheek. “Look at me,” he pleads.

 

Slowly, Katniss opens her eyes and finds his, ocean blue and filled with longing, looking back at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

 

“I miss her,” he repeats in a soft whisper. “But not nearly as much as I missed you.”

 

Katniss sighs. Flooded by a mix of yearning and relief, she quietly admits, “I missed you too.”


	5. Part 4 (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! Final chapter. Hope you enjoy.

“You have reached your destination,” the mechanical voice in Peeta’s geo-locator chimes.

 

With a flick of his finger, Peeta turns off the device and slips it into his pocket. Pulling his shoulders back, he takes a deep breath; a white puffy cloud escapes his lips as he releases it.

 

He can’t believe he’s here, standing just a few feet away from Katniss’s cabin.

 

Captivated by his surroundings, he takes a moment to examine the spacious clearing, the small cement building, and the serene waters of the lake that lies to his left.

 

The quiet stillness of the late autumn morning infuses his soul with peace and wonder.

 

He’s just begun to walk towards the cabin when the door swings open, and Katniss comes rushing out.

 

“Hey, Peeta!” she greets waving at him.

 

He waves back. “Looks like I made it!”

 

Katniss smiles. With a few quick steps, she closes the distance between them and throws her arms around his neck.

 

Peeta doesn’t hesitate; immediately mimicking her motions and pulling her into his embrace.

 

“Welcome,” she whispers into his ear. Her warm breath makes his skin pebble in the most delightful way.

 

“I’m glad to be here,” he whispers back.

 

Katniss sighs in his arms, and Peeta closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of her warm body relaxing against his chest.

 

After a few seconds, Katniss drops her hands on Peeta’s shoulders and pulls back. Her gray eyes twinkle excitedly as she asks, “How about a tour?”

 

“Lead the way!” he instructs as he releases her.

 

Opening her arms, she turns to the water. “This is the lake!”

 

Peeta chuckles. She’s so happy, so free, it makes his heart soar. He’s not really looking at the lake or its surroundings when he says, “It’s beautiful, Katniss.”

 

Katniss beams. “It is.”

 

“How did you find this place?”

 

Katniss wraps her arms around herself. For the first time since he got here, Peeta notices she’s not wearing a jacket.

 

“My father used to bring me out here when I was little,” she explains. Pointing her chin to the lake, she adds, “That’s where he taught me how to swim.”

 

Peeta looks out onto the water. His eyes narrow as he tries to imagine what that must have been like for her; spending warm summer days splashing around the lake with her father. It’s hard to believe such a happy moment existed in the old Panem.

 

Turning around, Katniss asks, “Want to see the greenhouse first?”

 

“Sure!”

 

Slipping her small hand into his gloved one, Katniss begins to walk, guiding them to the cabin. “Watch your step,” she instructs, pointing to a flat red wire on the ground.

 

Peeta stops for a moment. His eyes follow the wire as it goes around in a circle, wrapping around Katniss’s home. “What’s that?”

 

“An electric field,” she explains, “It’s not as strong as a force field, but it keeps the animals away. I only activate it at night, though, or when I’m not here.”

 

Peeta nods, and they start walking again. They reach the cabin and keep going, circling the small structure until they reach the back.

 

A smaller building with see-through walls comes into view. Surprised, Peeta stops.

 

Katniss’s greenhouse is like a shiny bubble of life standing in the middle of a leafless forest. Through the clear acrylic panes, he can see the flower beds where Katniss grows her fruits and vegetables, all bursting with fresh produce ready to be picked.

 

An amazed chuckle escapes his lips. “This is incredible!”

 

Katniss shrugs away his compliment, but when she turns to him, her smile’s so bright he knows she’s pleased.

 

“Did you set this up all by yourself?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, it wasn’t so hard,” she says, wrapping the end of her braid around the index finger of her free hand. “Thom sent me all the pieces and an instruction manual. All I had to do was assemble it. It only took me a couple of days.”

 

“Well, I think it’s awesome!”

 

Katniss’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of scarlet. “Wanna see the rest of the house?”

 

Peeta eagerly nods.

 

“Give me your jacket,” Katniss instructs as soon as they’ve stepped into her home.

 

Peeta shrugs his backpack off his shoulders and complies. Once he’s handed his jacket over to Katniss, he kneels and begins to untie his shoes.

 

“You can leave those next to mine,” Katniss says, pointing to the corner where her boots lie.

 

Free of his boots and jacket, Peeta glances around the room. It’s not very large, but she’s furnished it with practical pieces that enhance the space. The powder white walls and curtains give it a well-kept look, while the fire burning in the hearth makes it cozy and warm.

 

His eyes drift over the objects he recognizes from Thom’s catalogs and, without even knowing it, he begins to compile a mental inventory of what he finds. _There’s the pallet, the table, the chest of drawers, the mini fridge, the hot plate…_

 

On one corner, a couple of shelves catch his eye. They’re laden with cooking utensils, canned goods, and labeled canisters containing dried grains, different types of flour, herbs, and spices.

 

_Looks like she’s set for winter._

 

“What do you think?” Katniss whispers, startling him from his thoughts. She’s standing next to him, fiddling with the end of her braid as she looks intently into his eyes.

 

Silently, he reaches out to her and stills her hand. “This is great, Katniss! You have a beautiful home.”

 

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Well, I don't know if it's ‘beautiful,' but it is home.”

 

Peeta chuckles. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he says slapping his forehead, “I brought breakfast.”

 

Katniss’s eyes widen. “You did?”

 

“Mm-hmm.” In one quick motion, Peeta lifts his backpack from the floor and slips his hand inside. With a triumphant smile, he pulls a small paper bag out of it. “Cheese buns!” he announces.

 

Katniss’s eyes suddenly turn glassy. “Really?”

 

Peeta nods as he hands her the bag.

 

Katniss opens the bag and peeks inside, allowing the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread to spill into the room. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath.

 

Peeta watches as a wide smile splits her face. Quietly, he asks, “You like them. Real?”

 

“Real,” she says, pressing the bag against her chest, “they’re my favorite.”

 

While Katniss goes over to the cooking area to begin setting up the cheese buns on a plate, Peeta steps more fully into the room.

 

“Grab the large pillows from my bed and set them by the fire,” she instructs.

 

Peeta walks over to the bed. He’s about to pick the cushions up when he notices a couple of picture frames standing on top of the crate Katniss uses as a bedside table.

 

Intrigued, he turns to study them more fully.

 

A small gasp escapes his lips as he recognizes the paintings on display. The first one is a portrait of Prim holding Buttercup in her arms.

 

The unexpected reminder of the young girl who had so sweetly commissioned him to paint her portrait brings tears to his eyes. He still remembers her bright smile when he gave the painting to her, and the way she jumped into his arms to thank him after calling it the “best present ever.”

 

He knew it wasn’t, Katniss had given her far better things, but Prim had always been enthusiastic and sweet. She was always kind to him.

 

The second painting is newer. It’s the winter newsletter he made for Thom while he was in District 1. Without even thinking, Peeta reaches for it. “When did you get this?”

 

With quiet steps, Katniss approaches him. Standing on the tips of her toes, she peers over his shoulder. “Last winter. Thom sent it over. He sends one every month.”

 

Peeta nods. His voice is thick with emotion when he says, “That’s when you talked to Dr. Aurelius, when you sent me that message, right?”

 

Behind him, Katniss nods. Silently, she walks around until she’s facing him. Her gentle hands take the frame from Peeta’s and put it back in its place. Keeping her eyes trained on her bedside table, she says, “I knew you were studying in District 1. Dr. Aurelius had already told me that, but when I saw that newsletter….” Katniss trails off.

 

Peeta reaches for her shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “When you saw that newsletter,” he prompts.

 

“I thought you were back,” she quietly admits. “But then I called Dr. Aurelius, and he told me you were still there.” She turns to face him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s when I gave him the message.”

 

Peeta drops his gaze to the floor. “I should have called you back then. I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to come back yet, and I didn’t want to upset you.”

 

Katniss cups his cheek, the soft stubble brushes against her skin tickling her palm. It’s a feeling she’s still not used to, it makes her smile. “You did nothing wrong,” she assures him.

 

Peeta looks up. His hopeful eyes find hers, and he sighs, leaning further into her touch.

 

“I came here to run away from the world,” she says, “I didn’t want to talk to anyone. There was no way you could have known what I thought or what I wanted.” After a small pause, she adds, “You were just trying to protect me, Peeta, I know that.”

 

“’Cause that’s what we do?" he asks, flashing her a crooked grin.

 

A soft chuckle escapes her lips. “Yeah. That’s what we do.”

 

* * *

 

Peeta and Katniss eat a quiet breakfast by the fire and then decide to go out for a walk. Katniss begins their tour by showing him the outhouse and the sink where she washes her utensils and her clothes.

 

“My father said this was a camp site before the dark days,” she explains. “People came here with their tents and slept there. But they had these facilities they all could share. My cabin was probably the manager’s office. That's why it doesn't have indoor plumbing.”

 

“What about electricity?” he asks, intrigued by her living arrangements.

 

“It has all the wiring, but the original generator is busted. I use solar panels now, they give me all the power I need.”

 

After their walk, they sit by the water’s edge to enjoy the shy winter sun and watch the occasional bird soar across the sky.

 

They've been there for a few minutes when he notices it for the first time, a flash of gold circling Katniss’s neck, gleaming under the sun’s pale light.

 

Before he can stop himself, his hand reaches for Katniss’s neckline. “Is that–,”

 

Katniss’s hand flies to her chest. “Yeah.” Blushing, she reaches under her neckline and pulls the locket Peeta gave her from underneath her t-shirt. Hesitantly, she drops it on Peeta’s waiting hand.

 

Peeta stares at the round pendant lying flat against his palm.

 

His thumb traces the contour of the mockingjay’s wings as a million memories of pain and loss flash through his mind; violent thunderstorms and flashes of lightning, exploding parachutes, and slain friends dance before his eyes. With a deep breath, he bites the inside of his cheek, pressing down hard until the pain brings him back to the moment, away from the terrors and to Katniss’s side.

 

Although his heart is beating madly against his ribcage, he doesn’t stop. Carefully, he slides his finger along the side of the pendant, pressing the clasp and pushing the locket open.

 

As soon as the locket’s contents are exposed, Peeta releases a shaky sigh. There they are, just as he remembers them, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen smiling kindly at him.

 

His relief quickly turns to confusion. The third picture’s gone. Gale’s been replaced by a dried bloom.

 

_A dandelion_ , he thinks as an old memory goes through his mind. Looking up at Katniss, he asks, “A dandelion?”

 

Katniss shrugs. “They’re food.”

 

Peeta’s eyes widen. “They are?”

 

“Yep!” Katniss repeatedly nods, pressing her lips together as she considers her next words. Her sun-kissed cheeks turn a deep red when she finally says, “They…sort of remind me of you.”

 

Peeta frowns. “They do?”

 

Katniss takes a deep breath and releases it, lifting her chin to look up at the sky. “That day after you gave me the bread--,”

 

Peeta stills. They’ve talked about this once before. It didn’t end well. It’s a conversation he wishes they’d never had; one he’s not looking forward to reliving. But, even though he wants to kick himself for bringing up the subject, he knows it’s too late to turn back. So, he nods, encouraging her to go on.

 

Slowly, Katniss turns to face him. His chest tightens at the sight of her gray eyes glistening with unshed tears.

 

“Those dandelions outside our school were the first flowers I’d seen in months,” she explains, “The second I saw them I knew Prim and I would be ok. Winter was over, and there was plenty of food to be had. We just had to go look for it. So, I went to get Prim and I took her to the Meadow.” A small smile curves her lips as she gets lost in her memory. “We ate dandelion salad that night. Dandelion salad and day-old bread. It's one of the best meals I’ve ever had.” A sad tear escapes the corner of her eye. Hastily, she wipes it away.

 

Looking down at the open locket in Peeta’s hand, she adds, “Every time I see a dandelion, I think about that.”

 

Slowly, Peeta closes the locket and lets it go, smiling as the golden disc settles over Katniss’s chest.

 

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, reaching for her hand.

 

“I wish I’d thanked you sooner,” she says, lacing their fingers together.

 

“We can’t change the past, Katniss.”

 

“I know.” She nods, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “At least we have a future now, right?” she asks in a small voice.

 

“That we do,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on her temple.

 

* * *

 

“Coming!” Thom grumbles as he rushes down the stairs and into the room at the front of the house.

 

He reaches the two-way radio just in time to answer the incoming call. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, Thom!” Katniss’s voice crackles through the speakers.

 

“Hey, Katniss,” he huffs trying to catch his breath, “how are you?”

 

“I’m fine, Thom, thanks,” she says, sounding anything but fine. “Listen, have you seen Peeta?”

 

Thom slaps his forehead. _Saturday!_

 

“We were supposed to meet today,” Katniss explains, “but he didn’t show up. It’s getting kind of late and, with the snow storms we’ve had… I just want to know if he’s ok. Have you heard from him?”

 

Thom sighs, he can’t believe he forgot to call her. She’s going to be furious when she finds out what’s happened.  

 

Bracing himself for what’s to come, he begins, “Listen, Katniss, I’m so sorry. I should have called you sooner, but things have been a bit crazy around here, and… I kind of forgot.” Thom pauses for a moment, he needs to catch his breath. He doesn’t want to sound anxious when he explains the next part. “Peeta’s fine, he just… well, he had a bit of an accident.”

 

“An accident?” Katniss screeches, “What kind of accident?”

 

Thom scratches the back of his head and reminds himself to stay calm. He can’t let Katniss’s anxiety get to him. “You know how he likes to walk around at night, right?”

 

“Yeah?” she urges.

 

“Well, a couple of nights ago, he went out on one of his walks. Everything was dark outside and,” Thom takes a deep breath, “he stepped on a patch of black ice and fell.”

 

“He fell?”

 

“Yeah,” Thom pinches the bridge of his nose, steeling himself for the next part of the conversation. “Because of the fall, one of the wires in his prosthetic came loose and he couldn’t stand back up again. He was able to repair it,” he rushes to explain, “but it took him a while.”

 

“How long was he out there for?” Katniss demands, anxiety giving way to anger.

 

Even though he knows she can’t see him, Thom flinches as he says, “About an hour?”

 

“An hour?” Katniss’s voice is so loud it makes the speaker screech. He’s sure he would have heard her even without the two-way radio. “In this weather?”

 

“Yeah,” Thom confirms with a tired sigh. “By the time he got home, he was soaked through and shivering something fierce. He took a warm bath, got into bed, and called the doctor the next morning. But it was too late, the fever had already set in.

 

“The doctor’s been to see him every day,” he assures her, “and Haymitch and Sae have been taking turns bringing him medicine and food. I was supposed to call you and let you know.”

 

Thom sighs, allowing the stress of the last few days to seep out of him. “Again, Katniss, I’m so sorry. I know the last thing Peeta wanted was for you to worry.”

 

Katniss’s voice is terse as if she’s trying to hide her concern. It doesn’t work. “So, he’s okay now, you’re sure?”

 

“Yes. He’s doing a lot better, he’ll probably have to stay home for a couple more days, but he’ll be up and about in no time. I'm sure he’ll be fully recovered by next Saturday. Is there anything you want me to tell him in the meantime?”

 

There's a short pause. The sound of Katniss's labored breathing fills the small room. “Just, tell him I called,” she finally says, “and that I know what happened. I’ll call you back tomorrow to see how he’s doing. Is that alright?”

 

“Sure, Katniss, no problem. You can call me anytime. I promise I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

 

“Thanks, Thom,” she says, her voice cracking at the end. Thom’s sure she’s going to break down crying as soon as they end the call. “Goodnight,” she quietly adds.

 

Thom disconnects the call and lets out a deep breath. Quietly, he walks up to the window and looks out. The storm clouds are gone, the sky is clear. There are still a couple more hours left before nightfall.

 

He thinks about Katniss, pacing around in her cabin, worried sick about Peeta’s health. He doesn’t know her very well, but he’s seen her in action. She’s not one to just sit and wait.

 

A sudden thought brings a crooked smile to his lips. Amused, Thom chuckles to himself. _See you soon, Katniss._

 

* * *

 

By the time Katniss reaches the gates of Victors’ Village, the sun has already set. Hidden behind one of the lamp posts which flank the entrance, she watches as the new residents of her old neighborhood go about their daily lives. 

 

A group of men, dressed in worn overalls and sturdy boots, passes her by; their voices cheerful and loud as they talk about their day on their way back home. 

 

A baby cries in the distance. A dog barks. A mother calls her children to come back home for the night. 

 

The raucous laughter of a group of friends walking along the main road blends with the annoyed honks of a dissenting flock of geese. A string of expletives, delivered in Haymitch’s raspy voice, soon follows.

 

Katniss smiles. It’s been a long time since she’s been surrounded by this much noise, this much life. 

 

Keeping to the narrow streets, she quietly makes her way to Peeta’s home. Once there, she circles the house until she finds the outside staircase which leads up to the living quarters.

 

She’s about to knock on the front door when it swings open. Startled, Katniss jumps back.

 

“Hey, Katniss!” Thom greets her with a warm smile.

 

“Thom!” she exclaims, bringing her hand to her chest. Her heart pounds anxiously against her palm. “I’m--,”

 

“Here to see Peeta,” Thom finishes for her. Leaving the door open, he turns towards the hallway. “Come right in,” he calls back.

 

Katniss closes the door behind her and follows Thom through the entrance hallway and into the kitchen.  Once there, Thom grabs a piece of paper from the counter.

 

“Alright,” he says, handing the piece of paper to Katniss, “this is Peeta’s timetable. Every visit has been registered here.” 

 

Katniss looks at the information before her. Haymitch, Sae, and a doctor she’s never heard of before, Doctor Harris, have recorded everything that’s happened in Peeta’s life over the last few days. In one quick glance, she can see how much food he’s eaten, what medicine he’s taken, how high his fever has been...

 

Her stomach twists into a knot when she notices how hard it’s been to bring Peeta’s temperature down.

 

“As you can see,” Thom says, cutting through her thoughts, “Haymitch took the last shift. He gave Peeta his medicine and made sure he ate something. Sae is scheduled to come by early tomorrow morning to bring breakfast.” Turning to the pantry, he adds, “There’s not much food left here, but I could bring something over from my place if you’re hungry.”

 

Katniss answers with a shake of her head. She doesn’t want any food or drink, she just needs to see Peeta. “Thanks, Thom. That’s okay, I’m not hungry.” Leaving the schedule back on the counter, she asks, “Where is he?”

 

“Down the hallway,” he says, “third door to the right. He was asleep the last time I looked in on him. The medicine the doctor prescribed knocks him out completely.”

 

The memory of an unconscious Peeta lying on the cave’s floor comes unbidden to Katniss’s mind. With a shaky sigh, she wishes it away.

 

“Is there anything else you need?” Thom asks with that soft, even tone which has become so familiar to her.

 

“No, I'll be all right,” she reassures him, “Go home, get some rest. I’ll talk to Sae tomorrow morning. We’ll figure it out from there.”

 

Satisfied, Thom smiles. “Alright. Good night, Katniss.”

 

“Good night, Thom.”

 

As soon as Thom turns to leave, Katniss spins in the opposite direction and heads straight to Peeta’s room.

 

Slowly, so as not to scare or startle him in case he’s awake, Katniss opens the door. 

 

He’s lying in bed, swaddled in a warm comforter with his eyes closed, completely gone to the world. 

 

She moves to stand by his side and takes him in. He’s pale and his hair is a rumpled, sticky mess, but he still looks a lot better than he did when she found him in the arena, or when he was rescued from the Capitol.

 

Delicately, she places her outstretched palm over his chest and watches its slow rise and fall, following the uneven rhythm of the snores which fill the darkened room.

 

Tears sting her eyes. She blinks them away.

 

Tearing her eyes from Peeta for a moment, she inspects the room. She’s never been there before and she’s surprised by how stylish and unpretentious it is. Unlike her own bedroom across the street, this place looks welcoming and warm with its powder blue curtains and grain wood furniture. 

 

Her eyes scan the paintings hanging from the walls.  _Peeta’s paintings_ , she thinks, moving closer to admire the captivating images of pink mountain peaks and orange sunsets lit by the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth.

 

With a sigh, she turns to the armchair Peeta’s set up in front of the fireplace.  _This will do_ , she quickly decides before grabbing the sturdy piece of furniture and dragging it across the room and towards Peeta’s bedside. 

 

With a tired huff, Katniss drops down onto the armchair and gives herself a moment to catch her breath. Cautiously, she leans forward and rests her elbows on Peeta’s bed.

 

“Where are you?” she whispers, reaching out to brush a wave of dirty blond hair away from his face.

 

Peeta doesn’t move. 

 

Her chest tightens, burdened with anxiety and worry, and she lets out a shaky exhale as she tries to remain calm.

 

Gently, she runs the back of her hand over Peeta’s cheek. The soft tickle of his golden stubble instantly soothes her, reminding her that they’re no longer tributes, no longer playthings in other people’s games. 

 

_We're not in the arena anymore_ , she thinks,  _we have friends, and food, and medicine. This is just a cold. Peeta’s strong, he’ll be okay._

 

Relieved by the thought, Katniss stands up and leans forward. Touching her forehead to Peeta’s, she holds still, hovering over him for an instant before pressing a tender kiss to his chapped lips.

 

_No fever_ , she thinks with a smile as she sits back down.

 

* * *

 

Peeta opens his eyes. Soft hues of pale sunlight bleed into the room painting the world in its hazy glow.

 

He blinks a few times, allowing the last tendrils of sleep to recede as he stretches slowly, like a lazy cat. He turns onto his side and finds Katniss sleeping next to him. He smiles.

 

He still can’t believe she’s there, in Victors’ Village, in his house, in his bed.

 

He almost had a heart attack when he found her there the first morning, sitting by his bedside and holding his hand. His first instinct was to blame his fever, didn’t people hallucinate when their temperature runs high? But the way she scowled as she scolded him for not being more careful immediately convinced him she was real.

 

He didn’t want to be a burden, so he told her he’d be fine, that she was free to go. “Haymitch and Sae have been taking good care of me, I’m much stronger now,” he boasted, wanting to sound self-sufficient but hoping she’d ignore his comment and stay all the same.

 

“Haymitch and Sae are busy,” she said, sounding determined as she looked down at their joined hands. After a short pause, she added, “I know I’m not much of a healer, but you’re stuck with me.”

 

“Not much of a healer?” Peeta huffed. “I don’t know why you have such a hard time accepting this, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, Katniss. You’re a great healer.”

 

A mischievous smile curved her lips as she turned to look at him. “Well, I’m glad you think so because I’m not going anywhere; not until you’ve recovered, you hear?”

 

Two days have gone by since then, two days of having Katniss Everdeen all to himself; two days of knowing she’s safe. But he’s feeling better now. The medicine, the food, the company, they’ve all conspired against him. He’s strong enough to go back to work, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He’s not ready to let Katniss walk out the door. So, he keeps still, quietly guarding over her as she sleeps.

 

Unfortunately, the sun’s already out and, before long, Katniss’s eyes flutter open.

 

Shimmering pools of silver find him and, as the fuzzy mist of sleep lifts, Katniss smiles.

 

A sudden warmth spreads through Peeta’s chest, making him feel safe, relieved, loved. He would give anything to make this moment last forever.

 

Reaching out to brush a wisp of hair away from Katniss’s forehead, he whispers, "I remember this.”

 

Sleepy gray eyes look back at him. "What?"

 

"The peace," he says, slowly running his fingers along Katniss's messy braid. "The closeness. The comfort I felt knowing you were safe. The feeling that nothing mattered outside of this moment, this room... this bed."

 

"I remember that too," she admits so quietly he almost misses it.

 

Peeta’s mouth goes dry.

 

Over the last few months, his relationship with Katniss has blossomed in a way it never had before. Without audiences or pressure, they've finally been able to interact naturally. It's been beautiful.

 

He feels closer to her than he ever did. And the fact that she's there, caring for him, tells him Katniss feels something for him too. But he's still terrified to hope, to dream that she might have wanted him as much as he wanted her then. As much as he wants her still.

 

A part of him wants to drop the conversation, to quit while he's ahead.  But his heart refuses to listen to reason, pushing him to ask instead, "What do you remember?"

 

Katniss blushes prettily. "Um... everything you just said." Closing her eyes, Katniss lets out a long breath. Her voice falters slightly as she pushes the next words out of her lips. "Feeling safe, whole... happy even."

 

Peeta's breathless all of a sudden, practically gasping for air as his mind spins out of control. One word is all he needs to find peace. "Real?"

 

Katniss nods. "Real," she confirms as her gray eyes find his once more. "I used to think it was all about the nightmares, about keeping each other safe in the dark. But I know better now.” With gentle fingers, she traces the line of his eyebrows. Following along the side of his face, she reaches his lips. “I've missed waking up next to you," she breathes.

 

Peeta swallows thickly. His heart is begging him to ask her to stay, tonight, tomorrow, always, but he doesn't want to break the delicate balance they've achieved by rushing into things.

 

Brushing his thumb over her lips, he says, “Me too.” Using the last of his willpower, Peeta rolls onto his back and lets out a deep, cleansing breath. "We should probably get some breakfast.”

 

Katniss’s face lights up. "You're hungry," she says, propping herself up on one arm and reaching out to touch his cheeks and forehead more deliberately.

 

Peeta chuckles. "Yeah."

 

"That's good, means you're better."

 

Looking straight into her eyes, he says, “It's all thanks to you, you know?"

 

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right!"

 

Peeta laughs again. He wants to hold her, to kiss her senseless until they’re both breathless and spent, to press her against his chest and never let go. But he knows it’s too soon for that. So, instead, he reaches for his prosthetic and focuses on their breakfast menu.

 

_One step at a time_ , he repeats like a mantra as he gets out of bed.

 

* * *

 

They’re clearing the breakfast table when Katniss finally voices what’s been on their minds since their day began. “I think it’s time I went home.”

 

Peeta knows she’s right. He’s cured and they both have lives they need to get back to, but he refuses to let go without a fight. “Could you stay a bit longer?” he asks, trying to make it sound like a question and not a plea.

 

Katniss looks down at the tea towel in her hands like it’s become the most fascinating thing in the world. Eventually, she says, “It’s been nice, being here, but I need to go check up on things. I’ve neglected the greenhouse long enough.”

 

Peeta nods. “Can I show you something before you leave?”

 

Katniss smiles. “Sure.”

 

He leads her down the hallway until they reach the last door. Pushing it open, Peeta walks into a room. Intrigued, Katniss follows.

 

Her eyes widen in surprise as soon as she steps inside. _A bedroom_.

 

A rustic wooden bed stands in the middle of the room; its dark green comforter matches the ivy sprigs delicately embroidered on ivory curtains that fall from the ceiling covering the windows.

 

Katniss turns to the left and finds a balcony furnished with a teak loveseat. The perfect place to watch the sun set behind my woods.

 

A small smile paints her lips as she turns to look at the whole room. She notices a small desk with a chair, a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and a cushioned armchair, like the one in Peeta’s room, that’s been upholstered in luxurious green velvet.

 

The fireplace stands empty, but the watercolor hanging over it immediately catches her eye. It’s a bouquet, a bouquet of primroses and katniss flowers.

 

“It’s beautiful, Peeta!” she exclaims walking towards the painting. Her eyes are still taking in every brush stroke when she asks, “When did you paint it?”

 

“Before the Quell.”

 

Puzzled, she turns to look at him. “Back when we were training?”

 

“Um, no. A bit before then,” Peeta mumbles before looking away.

 

She's surprised to see him blush. She’s about to tease him for being so modest when his words sink in.

 

Before their training.

 

_When we were engaged_ , she thinks, as a furious heat warms up her cheeks. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she asks, “Was this for me?”

 

Peeta nods. “It started out as a spare bedroom,” he explains, walking over to the balcony and looking out into the woods. His shoulders slump. “But nobody used it.”

 

She moves to stand next to him. “And then we got engaged.”

 

“Yeah.” After a pause, he adds, “I thought things would be easier for you if you had a place that was all your own.”

 

Reaching out, Katniss slips her hand in Peeta’s and gives it a squeeze. Blue eyes, bright with longing, find hers, igniting a fire in the deepest part of her being.

 

Katniss holds still as her mind reels and her heart races making her feel breathless and calm, confused and clear-headed, mad and sane all at once. 

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she has to go. Her deep-rooted fears still pull her towards her cabin, but she wants to stay. She wants to throw caution to the wind and stay. She wants to wrap her arms around Peeta’s neck and stay.

 

Cupping her cheek, Peeta says, “I know you have a home, Katniss. I know you have a life. But I want you to know that you’ll always have a place here with me. Whenever you want it, whenever you feel ready. I’ll be here for you. This place will be here for you.”

 

Warm relief spreads through Katniss’s chest. Without a word, she steps fully into Peeta’s embrace. His arms wrap tightly around her frame and she whispers into his chest, “Thank you, Peeta.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“I don’t think I’m ready yet,” she quietly admits.

 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, “there’s no rush. There’s no rush.”

 

* * *

 

Days in the cabin grow long. Katniss is restless.

 

She'd hoped that going back to her routines would alleviate her anxiety and bring peace to her mind. But things haven't worked out that way. Spending time with Peeta in Victors’ Village has only reminded her of what she’s missing on. She loves her peace and quiet, but she now misses the joy, the laughter, the companionship; the warmth only Peeta’s presence can bring.

 

When she talks to Dr. Aurelius about it, he says, “You’re the only one who knows what’s right for you, Katniss. The woods have been kind to you, but you’re still young, it’s natural to want a change of pace.”

 

 “I know, doctor, it’s just… well, I don’t know what I’d do there,” she admits.

 

“Have you considered going back to school?” he asks, “I know you can’t leave the district, but the long-distance courses are very good. You could study a full program without even leaving Victors’ Village.”

 

“I have,” she says, looking at the course catalog Peeta gave her when she stayed at his place. She’s been going through it with a fine-toothed comb and she’s already found a couple of things she’d like to study.

 

Clearing his throat, he adds, “There’s nothing wrong with leaving the cabin behind, Katniss. There’s a whole world out there waiting for you, and you should be a part of it.” His voice grows serious as he says, “And you don’t have to go to Peeta’s either; not if you don’t want to or if it makes you feel like you’d be rushing into something you’re not ready for. You can always go back to your own house or rent a room, or even an apartment, someplace else in the district. I’m sure Peeta will understand.”

 

Katniss nods. She knows she doesn’t have to live with Peeta. She’s grateful to Doctor Aurelius for reminding her of the fact, but the truth is that there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

 

“Thanks for your help, doctor,” she says before disconnecting the call.

 

* * *

 

It’s cold outside, but Katniss and Peeta are back on their rock, bundled in their heavy jackets to keep away the biting chill as they sip hot tea and talk about their week.

 

“For you,” Peeta says handing her an envelope. “Thom asked me to deliver it.”

 

“Thanks,” she says, laughing as her gloved fingers fumble clumsily with the flap. After a few attempts, she manages to pull a piece of paper out of the pouch.

 

“Peeta!” she gasps as soon as she sees the newsletter decorated by a wreath of poinsettias.

 

“You like it?”

 

She nods, “I love it! I think it’s better than last year’s!”

 

“And what about the activities?” he asks, leaning closer to her and pointing to the middle of the page.

 

Katniss follows Peeta’s finger and reads, “Winter Fest--,” Her breath catches in her lungs. “They’re bringing the Winter Festival back?”

 

“Yup. Apparently, there are enough people now, and… Well, it was a beautiful tradition. Don’t you think?”

 

Katniss drops the paper to her lap and takes a deep breath. The crisp wind fills her lungs making her shiver. Cold, she scoots over to get closer to Peeta. “It was,” she says, turning to look at him, “It was the best celebration we had. The only one I really enjoyed.”

 

Her eyes grow misty as her mind takes her back to those precious years of her childhood, back when life was hard but full of love.

 

“My parents always danced in front of the bonfire,” she says, “I can still see them now, holding on to each other like there was no one else in the world.” Tears slide down her cheeks and she quickly wipes them away.

 

Peeta wraps an arm around her shoulder and she leans into his side, grateful for his company, his warmth, his comfort.

 

A puffy white cloud escapes Peeta's lips as he asks, “Come with me?”

 

Katniss pulls away just enough to look into his eyes. “To the festival?”

 

“Yes,” he says, his voice trembling.

 

She nods, her whole body tingles with excitement as she says, “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

A thousand stars light up the sky on the night of the Winter Festival.

 

The people of District 12 walk around the main square, chatting and laughing as they sample delicacies from all over Panem.

 

Three large bonfires, set in front of the new Justice Building, crackle and burn while a group of musicians plays a cheerful tune, inviting everyone to dance, drink and be merry.

 

Katniss and Peeta walk around the square along with everyone else. Every once in a while, someone smiles or stops to greet them. The interactions are innocent enough, but each encounter triggers her anxiety, making her whole body tighten and tremble under her coat.

 

Peeta’s hand on the small of her back keeps her grounded, but it’s not enough. She’s about to excuse herself and run back into the woods when she realizes something; these people aren’t talking to them because they’re victors. They’re not greeting her because she’s the girl on fire, the Mockingjay.

 

They don’t want anything from her.

 

These are Peeta’s customers. They are the men and women who respectfully call him Mr. Mellark and who buy his bread every morning.

 

Flooded with relief, she bursts out laughing.

 

“You okay?” Peeta asks raising a golden eyebrow.

 

“Yeah,” she answers with a smile, “I'm good.”

 

Now that she knows she’s no longer the center of attention, Katniss begins to enjoy herself. Unburdened, she loosens her grip on Peeta’s arm and allows him to show her around town. 

 

Once he’s taken her to the new merchant quarter and made sure she’s tried at least one thing from every food stand, Peeta asks, “Dance with me?”

 

He’s shy, all of a sudden, looking so much like the boy who held her hand during their first tribute parade that she can’t refuse his request.

 

Slipping her hand into his, she allows him to lead her to the dance floor. Once there, she steps into his arms.

 

They dance, letting the sultry music guide them as they move together as one, following the simple steps Effie taught them so long ago.

 

Enveloped by Peeta’s warmth, Katniss closes her eyes, happily losing herself in his embrace. As the world around her melts away, she knows that this would have happened anyway; that there’s no universe in which she wouldn't have ended up in his arms. For Peeta is the sun that brings light to her darkness, the hope that helps her overcome her despair. Wrapped in his arms now, she feels like she's on the verge of something exciting, terrifying, brilliant, new.

 

Katniss smiles. She's not afraid anymore. She's ready to open her heart and love. Without cameras or audiences, without tricks, without acts. For him. For her. For always. For real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is! I hope you liked it.
> 
> Once again, I want to thank the fantastic akai-echo for making such a beautiful banner for my story and the lovely 567 for giving me this incredible prompt, this story wouldn't exist without her.
> 
> I still have Emme's story somewhere, and I'll probably add it to this as a one-shot at some point, but I don't know when. It'll probably be a while since I'm trying to concentrate on finishing some of my other WIPs.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, following, and commenting. Your words and encouragement mean the world to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Kudos and comments as much as Katniss loves watching a sunset with Peeta by her side. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks! 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
> 
> The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork


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